A Highway that Never Ends
by sharky-chan
Summary: Set during GGXX. Ky must deal with a new threat and Chipp gets himself into an interesting situation. Focus on Chipp and Ky as well as Venom, Anji and Baiken. Some shounen ai undertones. Lots of fighting.
1. An End and Two Beginnings

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari**  
**

**Notes:**  
Story takes place during GGXX and draws canon from multiple endings, including two of Chipp's. Chipp has already encounteredVenom from his first ending, Baiken and Anji are still in the Japanese Colony, and Ky now works for the International Police Force.

Story contains slashy undertones, but nothing explicit.

* * *

**Chapter 1: An End and Two Beginnings**

_Baiken evaded the Gear's attacks with cool precision, but her counter was too slow to connect. The Gear leapt out of range with a hiss of irritation, showing no sign of fatigue. She, on the other hand, was growing tired with each passing moment. This was a battle of attrition and Baiken was losing. She knew it. The Gear knew it. And it was only a matter of time. _

_"Dammit."_

_She used a brief lull in the encounter to shake the hair out of her good eye and readjust her grip on the katana. Blood trickled down her forehead, mingling with sweat, but she ignored it along with the shooting pain in her left ankle. This battle had no place for weakness._

_The Gear smirked at her as if reading her thoughts then attacked with inhuman speed. Its claws raced toward her face, but she only narrowed her eyes and sidestepped at the last second. Even as Baiken felt the wind created by the monster's attack pass across her face, she unleashed a furious wave of slashes._

_The blade became a whirlwind, cutting her opponent's arm and body and face. But instead of drawing back from the pain, the Gear only became more enraged. It let out a terrible scream as its undamaged hand swung around and clamped onto her sword arm. The bone itself seemed to shatter and spears of pain shot up her arm and through her torso. Her hand spasmed, dropping the sword._

_Baiken's scream was a mixture of pain and fury, and the claw hidden in her right sleeve shot out, the chain wrapping around the monster's neck. She pulled it taut, but the Gear didn't so much as flinch. Too late she realized she'd trapped herself as much as her enemy. Too late she realized she wouldn't be able to avoid the claw heading straight for her heart._

_Her eyes involuntarily shut for the briefest moment, but instead of the finishing blow and quick death that would follow, there was nothing. _

"_Eh?"_

_She looked up at the creature, now headless, and her claw slipped limp to the ground. Even decapitated, the Gear radiated surprise and swayed uncertainly on the verge of collapse. Baiken hesitated only an instant, before recovering enough to retract her metal hand and leap out of the way as the Gear crashed to the ground._

_"Good evening, my lady!"_

_She whirled around at the familiar voice. "Mito! What the hell are you doing here?"_

_He hid his roguish smirk behind the zessen, now gleaming with the Gear's blood, but she could still feel the amusement that clung to him like damp silk. "I was saving you, Baiken-san!"_

_She spat in disgust, "Bastard. I didn't ask for your fucking help." She turned away, intending to recover her sword and stamp off, but as she placed her foot down, a fresh wave of pain hit her through the now-fading adrenaline. Her vision turned a splotchy red and she felt the world spinning. _

_And then she was falling._

_Strong arms were suddenly there, holding her – supporting her._

_She kept her one eye closed, desperately fighting the vertigo, as she hissed, "Fucker. I said I don't want your damn sympathy."_

"_Baiken..."_

_He said the word as a breathy supplication. It was gentle, just as the arms were gentle, and Baiken felt herself unconsciously relax for the first time since that incident – since she'd met that man and had everything taken from her. It had been so long, she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be safe._

_Knock knock._

_She didn't want this feeling. She wanted hate and rage. She needed the pain never to fade – always there to drive her towards revenge._

_Knock knock knock._

_She wanted her anger back, but she couldn't help turning her face into the warmth of his shoulder. If she remained still enough, she could hear the soothing thump of his heart through that heavily muscled chest. _

_She closed her eye and let out a small, defeated sigh. "You're so strong..."_

_Mito..._

_She tilted her head, ignoring the pain that continued to throb in her arm and leg. Everything paled in comparison to these feelings and this moment. She would not lose it or him. She would not let anything take him away from her._

_Mito._

_He shifted his weight and carefully inclined his head. Even as his own mouth moved towards hers, her lips parted and she breathed out his name, her words soft and gentle like newly fallen snow..._

"ANJI!"

"Eh?"

Anji's eyes flew open, and his heart missed several beats. He kept from flailing by grasping the covers in a white-knuckled death grip. After a moment he was able to unclench his hands but his heart refused to slow. He wondered how many years had just been taken off his life.

Anji looked up, fully expecting to see Baiken, beautiful and battered and oh-so-willing, but the woman was nowhere in sight. Instead, he stared directly into a pair of upside-down red eyes and a shock of white hair. He felt cheated.

"Oi, Anji. What the hell is your problem? Give me another smirk like that and I'm gonna punch you in the face. Anyway, I need help with this kanji."

Chipp knelt at the head of Anji's sleeping mat. He leaned over and began to wave a small book made of delicately colored rice paper in Anji's face.

Anji blinked in an attempt to banish all pink-haired women, no matter how gorgeous, from his still-groggy mind. If he'd been more awake, he would have growled at Chipp and whacked him across the head with a paper fan. As it was, he was too confused to do anything more than state a fact.

"Chipp, it's the middle of the night."

"Yeah, yeah, but this book is really difficult. There's lots of kanji, an' it's all calligraphy, so it's even harder to read." Chipp's voice was dangerously close to whining.

Anji closed his eyes and debated feigning sleep. With reluctance he decided it was much too late for that since he was no longer tired and the other wasn't _that_ stupid. Instead he sat up and accepted the book, allowing himself a long-suffering sigh that he'd perfected with the young ninja.

"Okay, okay, lemme see." He pulled the book close to his face. Without his glasses, Anji was forced to squint at the intricate symbol at which Chipp pointed. Anji's eyes flickered between the page and Chipp's eager face several times, before his own face went blank. "Chipp, the book's upside down."

"No fucking way!" Chipp wrenched the hapless text away from him, and tried looking at it from several different angles, none of which helped. Chipp's pale face flushed a deep red, visible even in the dim light shining in through the windows.

He glared at Anji as if it were his fault. "What're you looking at! If you wanna say something, then say it! But I ain't a fucking moron!"

Anji shut his eyes, very aware of the fact that it was too early to be dealing with Chipp. He would have counted to ten if he thought it would help.

"Look Chipp, no one is calling you a moron. I promise I'll teach you some more Japanese in the morning, but until then, can't you let me sleep?" The last part sounded a bit more desperate than Anji would have liked, but it couldn't be helped.

The other man didn't seem to hear and continued to stare at the book with a mixture of impatience and frustration. He leaped to his feet and began to pace across the small bedroom.

Chipp gestured with the book to emphasize his words, and Anji winced every time he heard the paper crinkle. "It's no good, Mito. I mean, this colony has a big library and everything, but it's all in Japanese."

"That's because this is the 'Japanese' Colony. It's all rather logical when you think about it."

"Yeah, okay. But I don't have time for this! I gotta start learning now! How can I become president if I don't know all that important stuff!"

Chipp flopped to the floor and went into an all-out sulk. Anji reminded himself as he often did that Chipp was actually a great guy, could be quite charming and was in fact not an idiot. He only looked like one. And acted like one. And usually sounded like one.

"Chipp."

"What?"

"I know how much you want to become president."

"'Cuz everyone else sucks, an' someone's gotta do it."

"Right. But these things take time."

"Yeah?"

"So maybe..."

"What?"

He looked at Chipp, who was watching him with an intent but clueless expression.

"Oh, never mind." Some battles weren't worth fighting. "Look, if you're having trouble with our libraries, maybe you should consider A-Country's Central Archives."

"Yeah, yeah, I already thought about that. It's just, with that bounty on my head, it's hard for me to go anywhere without getting into fights."

Anji avoided mentioning Chipp's big mouth and tendency to brawl with anyone and everyone who looked crossways at him. This also fell under the category of 'battles not worth fighting'.

Instead he shrugged. "Then you'd better talk to a private collector. There's Rita Dylan and Thomas Maynard. They're the biggest collectors – outside the Assassin's Guild, of course. And then there's –"

"Whoa, whoa. Who's got the biggest private collection?"

"The Assassin's Guild. Of course, with all the in-fighting and problems it has had recently, who knows how the library's fared? But..." Anji trailed off as he realized he'd said the wrong thing.

Chipp was the closest thing Anji had to a best friend. They'd met when the young albino had attacked him for laughing at his use of chopsticks, and had become friends when the other subsequently demanded that Anji teach him Japanese. In the times since, Anji had come up with a fairly effective way of handling the other's eccentricities. It involved a lot of patient but half-hearted listening and limiting the amount of ideas the ninja had at once.

Their friendship also meant that he could tell when Chipp got An Idea. Chipp got Ideas on occasion and no good ever came from them. He followed them with incredible tenacity and equally incredible lack of planning. And nothing could stop him. He was like a pit bull only less easily house-broken.

At the moment Chipp's eyes were alight with An Idea, and although Anji didn't know exactly what the other had decided, he knew it couldn't be good.

"I've got it! I'll locate the Assassin's Guild, break in, and go through their books. I bet they have a bunch of stuff on politics too!"

"But Chipp...it's the _Assassin's Guild_. They killed your master, remember? You think they're going to let you stroll in and browse the 300 section?"

Chipp dismissed Anji's objections with a careless wave. "Whatever. My master would want me to do everything I can to become president. This is more important than revenge. This is about bringing lasting honor to my clan. And besides, with the Assassin's Guild almost destroyed, it won't be hard to sneak into it. I'm a ninja, right?"

"Yes, but –"

"Oh, and thanks, Anji! I'll take that Japanese lesson when I get back, 'kay?"

"But Chipp –"

"And you can keep the book."

Chipp tossed the book over his shoulder as he walked to the balcony. Anji rushed to catch the delicate item as he shouted at the other's back, "Chipp, there must be...!"

The ninja seemed to blur before disappearing entirely, and the other knew better than to think he could catch him. Book in hand, he straightened up, and looked onto the now empty balcony. He dropped his head in a sigh.

"There must be an easier way."

He knew it didn't help but felt better for saying it.

* * *

Although he knew other detectives considered it a chore, Ky Kiske gave paperwork the same meticulous attention he would the actual investigation or battle. Many had assumed his past accomplishments would make him arrogant or lazy, and he had surprised both his comrades and superiors when he threw himself into police work with as much diligence as he had shown in the Order.

Once a young officer, awestruck upon learning of Ky's past duties in the Holy Knights, approached him. He'd asked, in a shy and almost adoring voice, if Ky missed the glory of battle and found his role of detective tedious. A faint flush had stained Ky's cheeks but he'd smiled as he replied that he was just glad that the world finally had a chance at peace.

While this was half the truth, he hadn't explained that he also found paperwork relaxing. With each pen stroke, he put a small piece of information into its correct place. Others saw this as a necessary evil, but Ky understood that order was created not from epic battles and endless fighting but from the little details that came together and formed a larger structure.

Before, victories had been pensive and brief – mere lulls as he waited for the next round of terror that the Gears would unleash. Only now did he feel genuine satisfaction in the work he did, knowing that he was helping the world find a way toward peaceful order.

But part of him did miss the fighting. On the battlefield he needed nothing but quick thinking and even quicker reflexes. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and left his mind wonderfully clear. Only then did he understand the exhilaration of freedom. Freedom.

Sol.

For a moment, his pen hesitated, and a shadow passed across his face. Emotions roiled through his chest and shattered the calm he'd found in his deskwork. That was a name from his past and he only wished to erase it from this time and place. Yet he couldn't help a tight frown as he forced his thoughts away from those lazy eyes and arrogant smirk and back to paperwork assigned to him by the International Police Force.

Although he managed to return to the task at hand, he had had only a few minutes to continue before someone rapped a polite knock on the door.

"Come in," He called without looking up.

The door opened and Ky heard a deferential cough. The detective mentally marked his place before shoving the forms aside and turning to gaze at the subordinate officer in front of him. He was Tyler Cobb, considered a veteran on this relatively new force and well respected by his peers. Ky recognized him as a perceptive if somewhat unorthodox officer, and trusted him enough to leave him to his own devices. The normally unflappable older man had a flicker of concern in his eyes that worried Ky.

"What is it, Officer Cobb?"

Cobb's clear gaze bored straight into Ky's own eyes. Now that he was reporting to a superior, the doubt was gone, replaced by cold professionalism. "Sir, we've received reports throughout several countries. It seems there's a group of bounty hunters going after a number of people we've placed on the 'watch' list."

Ky nodded. The "watch" list was a collection of names and profiles of potentially dangerous people. Most were not particularly disruptive, nothing the IPF could prosecute, despite their abilities or occupations that labeled them as possible dangers to society. That bounty hunters were going after them was not surprising, as many countries and organizations had access to the same information as the IPF and probably wanted to neutralize potential threats.

But the uneasy way Cobb shifted from one foot to the other put Ky on guard. There was a big "but" hanging in the officer's words.

"Sir, the thing is, these bounty hunters may or may not be human."

Ky's eyes narrowed. "Gears?"

Cobb shook his head, but Ky did not relax. "No, sir. There's nothing to suggest that. But they all appear to be using some sort of magical weapon." For a fraction of a second, Cobb's eyes flicked to corner of his superior's office, and the Ky's gaze instinctively followed.

His weapon rested within arm's length on the rack behind him. Ky's eyes widened in disbelief. "They have holy weapons?"

"Yes and no. They have Thunderseals."

Ky looked at his paper-covered desk and put a hand to his temple. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and when he spoke, there was an undercurrent of strain in his voice.

"Impossible. There is only one of each weapon. Only I have access to Thunderseal."

"I know, sir. That's why I dismissed the first few reports as the eyewitnesses' confusion. But now there are too many near identical reports to ignore. And also the people on the 'watch' list have started to go missing."

Ky leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to sigh and close his eyes if just for a moment, but he did not allow himself to display such weakness in front of a subordinate. Despite his current status as detective, Ky felt the same burden of responsibility as he had during the war – back when the lives of his men and perhaps even the fate of the world depended on him.

Cobb had given him too much information to sort through in a few minutes. If they were managing to capture or kill people on the "watch" list, these bounty hunters must be strong. That they had identical weapons suggested coordinated attacks from the same organization. Perhaps a new group was rising, coming to fill the void the Assassin's Guild had left? And if they had even a small fragment of the power of his Thunderseal...

"Officer Cobb."

"Yes, sir?"

"I want you to distribute my current cases to other officers. I'm going to devote my full attention to investigating these bounty hunters."

"Yes, sir."

Along with the worry, Ky felt something akin to anticipation surge through his body. How long had it been since he'd wielded Thunderseal with any seriousness? How long since he fought an opponent against whom he didn't have to hold back?

He suppressed these feelings as soon as they came and tried to focus on his duty. He wasn't like _him_, who turned every fight into a game. He would fight for others, not for his own ego.

"Bring me all the files we've got on these hunters and the kidnapped and see if you can contact any of the eyewitnesses. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Cobb gave a crisp salute, turned to leave, but hesitated as he opened the door. "Sir?"

"Yes, Officer Cobb?"

Ky didn't need to see the other's face to know he was wearing a sly grin, "Give 'em hell, sir."

Ky couldn't help returning the smile as he straightened the half-finished paperwork. "Don't worry. I intend to."


	2. Shadows both Past and Present

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari

* * *

**Chapter 2: Shadows both Past and Present**

The halls were silent except for the faint hum of the climate control unit, which buzzed in a low, determined hum. The narrow windows near the ceiling let in the faint glow of the moon and stars but the thick, bulletproof glass prevented any nighttime sounds from entering. Outside, it might have been a beautiful evening, but in here the atmosphere was gloomy as a tomb.

Because of its nature, the Assassin's Guild had always been solemn, but only in recent days had it also grown cold and empty. Zato-One's disappearance had led to a long and deadly internal struggle as members remembered old grievances and discovered new ambitions. Venom ended such squabbles with quick and brutal action as he established control over the Guild, but even he could not prevent the rumor that began to spread through the chill halls, crushing the morale of the already weary assassins.

The founder of the Guild was back and he aimed to destroy the Assassin's Guild once and for all. This alone would not have frightened the highly trained assassins, but as members of the Guild began to die under mysterious circumstances and after Venom confirmed Zato's death, the younger members began to slip away as shadows.

Venom had made examples of them, as he had with all those who challenged his power, but the Guild was simply too weak to enforce its martial code. His lieutenants and the older members that worked with him under Zato remained loyal, but it was all they could do to keep up with the constant stream of assignments.

The Guild was balanced on the edge of ruin, and everyone waited, although they could not say for what. There was hopeless anticipation in the air and fear. And though they accepted Venom's orders as law, they watched him as if knowing _something_ was going to happen, and soon.

Of course Venom knew all this as he knew all the inner workings of the Guild. And while he maintained an attitude of calm assurance, he shared the same foreboding, knowing that Zato's precious Guild was possibly irrevocably broken.

Venom had always been quiet and introverted and with Zato's death that had deepened into brooding melancholy. He forsook his beloved books and left the care of Zato's flower garden to one of the servants. He slept fewer and fewer hours a night, and when sleep did come, it was troubling and unpleasant and led to dreams of the demon called Eddie, who wore his master's face.

He'd given up on simple pleasures and instead began to focus solely on training. This night, like countless others, he spent in the billiards room.

The clink of pool balls hitting each other echoed through the large and tastefully decorated room, but Venom paid no heed to his surroundings. He played without hesitation or rest. He first pocketed stripes then solids then the eight ball. He then landed the balls in numerical order ascending followed by a game of descending. He played pocketing two then three balls in the same hit. And he never missed.

As he leaned over the table, his white hair spilled around his shoulders and pooled onto the well-worn green felt. The mask of hair obscured his eyes but he saw with precise clarity and hit each ball, guided by instinct and long years of practice. His thoughts lay elsewhere, as they always did during these sessions, and as always they returned to one man.

_Lord Zato_. The name, even unspoken, left a bitter taste in his mouth and an ache in his chest. His hands trembled ever so slightly but the cue ball still hit with accuracy and regulated strength.

When Zato first disappeared, a feeling of foreboding had hung over Venom's thoughts and tormented him both day and night. Part of him had known that the demon, for which Zato had traded his sight, was in some way involved but Venom had believed in Zato's strength. He had not given up the hope that his lord was still alive.

And Zato had been alive, although the sight of his once beautiful master, now possessed by such a foul creature, made him tremble with fury. For the first time in his life, Venom had truly wanted to kill. He wanted to tear apart that smug monster that dared to speak with Lord Zato's voice and use Lord Zato's hands. But greater than his hate for the demon was his love for Zato. At the Sacred Knights Tournament he had wanted to save his master, still hoping that he could protect Zato as Zato had always protected for him.

But now Lord Zato was truly dead, taken from both Venom and the demon, leaving only a lifeless corpse and the monster's hateful eyes. Venom had failed when Lord Zato had needed him most and he'd been powerless to stop the demon from escaping with his master's body in tow. In that moment, watching Eddie melt into the night sky, his last shreds of hope turned to hollow emptiness and Venom had been left with nothing but a dull ache and all-consuming grief.

He had returned to the Guild full of sorrow but resolute in his pain and reported on Zato-One's death, announcing that he would lead the Guild to honor his former master. He did not reveal the circumstances of the death or anything about the demon that still controlled the body. That knowledge was for him alone, and when the time came...

As Venom looked at the balls scattered across the table, he felt a bone-deep exhaustion that weighed on both body and soul. His cue seemed too heavy and too bloodstained to possibly wield. Not for the first time, Venom wished he could forget his promise to his master and let himself fall into whatever hell awaited killers like him. Maybe then he could see Zato again.

He heard Zato's voice, speaking with that enigmatic smile on his lips that always made Venom's heart ache, _What's this, Venom? Surely you can be stronger for my sake._ And the words that normally gave him strength now only made him feel the edge of despair more keenly.

The air behind him stirred and he felt another's presence in the room. He did not have to turn around to see the other figure bowing low before the current leader of the Assassin's Guild.

"Lord Venom."

The title seemed inappropriate to Venom's ears and he couldn't help feeling a stab of loss as he always did when anyone used the title that should have belonged to Zato alone. But he accepted this ache along with responsibility over Zato's Guild as a form of penitence.

"What is it, Clyne?"

Clyne was one of his highest lieutenants. Also born in an assassin's village the red-haired man had been trained from childhood to become both efficiently ruthless and unquestioningly loyal. He was quiet and polite and performed all of his duties, both in Guild organization and in actual assassinations, with the same cold demeanor and hollow stare in his grey eyes. Venom did not like him but he needed people like Clyne if he wanted to preserve the Assassin's Guild.

The lieutenant kept his head inclined with eyes fixed on the ground. "Lord Venom, there may be a problem."

Although he spoke without any emphasis or concern, Venom read between the words and knew that the problem was most likely serious. He lowered his cue stick and turned to devote his full attention to the other man.

Clyne continued, "It seems that someone has been breaking into the Guild's east building over these last few weeks. He or she enters on the third floor, and though we have yet to see this person or discover his or her purpose, servants have reported that several windows have been found unlocked."

Venom's heart skipped a beat as his thoughts immediately turned to the vampire, Slayer. But that was unlikely. When Slayer struck, assassins died. And Millia was not so foolish as to return to her former home. He considered other possibilities, "A thief?"

"No, Lord Venom. Nothing appears to have been stolen or sabotaged. If things had gone missing or been tampered with, the servants would have noticed sooner."

Clyne raised his eyes to look at Venom's face, and his eyes met Venom's ice blue gaze. "Lord Venom, it will be easy to flush out this person with more manpower."

Venom turned away, filled with unhappy thoughts. It wasn't that easy. First Zato dies, then Slayer returns, and now someone is waltzing around the supposedly impregnable home of the Assassin's Guild. As much as he wanted this problem taken care of in a quick and permanent manner, Venom didn't think the Guild could take another blow to morale.

"No, Clyne. I will handle this matter myself. How many people know of this intruder besides us?"

"Only a handful of servants who work on the third floor, and they will not speak to anyone but you or me."

"Very well. You say he always enters through the third floor? What are the chances that he will come tonight?"

"I do not know, Lord Venom."

Venom twirled his pool cue. It remained just as heavy and bloodstained as always, but he had no right to set that burden aside. Until he fulfilled his promise to Zato, until he hunted down that creature that dared to defile Zato's body, he would harden his mind and resolution until there was no place for pity or sorrow. _Lord Zato, I will fight and die for you. I will become the instrument of destruction that I failed to be during your life._

Venom headed for the door and the stairs to the third floor. "I suppose we will find out."

_You will have your revenge._

The third floor was mostly unused by the Guild. While it had the some sleeping quarters, including Venom's own bedchambers and the Guild's extensive library, most of the other assassins resided in adjacent buildings and the files on clients and targets were secured in the basement levels. The main corridor displayed an impressive array of paintings collected over the years but only Millia and a few others had ever come just for the art and that had been a long time ago.

Venom now moved with silent grace down the long corridors, the shadows softening any bitter memories the gallery might hold. His mind was clear and focused on the matter at hand as he reevaluated the familiar setting, searching for a sign of an intruder. Most of the windows were too small for a person to enter, and the larger ones were bolted and trapped. Whoever was breaking in was a professional. Venom would deal with him accordingly.

When he came to the heavy main doors of the library, he felt his senses heighten as they did on a job. His instincts told him that somebody was already in there and Venom always trusted his instincts. Tightening his grip on the metal pool cue, he slipped through the door, which let out only the faintest creak.

The library had more windows – larger windows — and the pale moonlight was almost as bright as the sun's rays. Venom gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness before scanning the room. The library consisted of a series of adjoining rooms, all filled with row after row of books. Venom knew it well from happier days when he spent idle hours skimming through delicate, aged books or playing chess with Zato, who won only on occasion but always accepted defeat with a rueful laugh and amused smile.

Venom hated to consider it the hunting ground it had now become and wished to finish his opponent quickly to avoid damaging the priceless collection. He moved with great caution, feeling another's presence but unable to locate it in the vast chambers.

As he glided into the next room, he saw a crumpled figure on the floor near a reading table. It wore the black robes that designated servants of the Assassin's Guild, but Venom had to narrow his eyes to identify it as a young girl. He took a few steps closer.

The Guild servants, while less skilled that a full Guild member, were still highly trained in all areas of combat. Even the youngest servants could complete D-level assignments. Only one knife, out of the girl's assortment of weapons, lay visible on the floor, meaning she'd been caught mostly unawares. Venom could not see any blood and after a moment of careful listening, heard the shallow rasp of her unconscious breath.

The intruder was nearby, but Venom could not locate him, and he realized that by now the intruder most likely knew of his presence. This unnerved him. He was not used to being the hunted. Shifting his grip on the pool cue, Venom decided to change tactics and called out, "Why have you come here?"

For a moment, he thought the other would remain hidden and not rise to the bait but then a disembodied voice echoed through the rows of shelves. "Yo, Venom."

Venom hesitated as he tried not only to place the voice in his memory, but also discover the intruder's location. He moved slowly toward the girl's prone form. The intruder was doing a remarkable job of not being seen and the assassin realized his only chance was to keep the other talking.

"Answer me! What do you want?"

"Don't you remember? You promised to work for me when I become president."

The words triggered a memory of a face. Only one person had ever said something so absurd to Venom, and a pair of red eyes attached to an impossibly cocky smirk appeared in his mind. Tsuyoshi's student – an American ninja named Zanuff. Chipp Zanuff.

"Zanuff, you are not president at this time. I have no reason to work for you yet."

The young and arrogant voice seemed to sour as it retorted, "Hey, hey! I'm working on it! But there's a lot I hafta learn, so I need to use your library."

Venom caught a flash of white in the shadows from the corner of his eye, and ever so slightly shifted his stance. A ball materialized, hidden behind his hand.

"Next time, try a public one." Even as he spoke, he tossed the ball in the air and struck it toward the shadows, which coalesced into a shrouded form as it dodged the attack.

Without hesitation, Venom teleported above the still moving figure and came down, using his pool cue as a club. The ninja rolled aside, avoiding the blow, but lost his balance in the process. He skidded across the floor but vanished just before crashing into a bookshelf. Reappearing on the top of the case, Zanuff crouched down, catching Venom's eyes only briefly before disappearing yet again. This time he seemed to fade competely into the shadows and left no telltale pale skin or white hair.

Venom remained in place, eyes and ears waiting for the slightest indication of his opponent's location, or any form of counterattack. It occurred to him that Tsuyoshi's pupil might actually be halfway competent. Even using his long-ranged attacks he could not hope to match Zanuff's speed. And although Venom had the upper hand in an actual fight, the other seemed content to hide in the shadows. A ninja that did not want to be found would not be found.

Venom's grudging respect for the other turned to annoyance when a now-indignant voice called out, "Oi! What's yer problem! Next time I'm gonna kick your ass!" Chipp Zanuff was either overly arrogant or a common idiot.

Venom scoffed, "My problem? How dare you say that when you break into my home and attack my servants!"

There was a long pause, as the ninja seemed to consider this. "Yeah, sorry about the girl; I really hate fighting kids. I hope she'll be fine."

After another thoughtful pause, he continued in a petulant voice, "I just wanted to look through your books. It's not like you're using them right now..."

The assassin opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat as he realized the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, in his library in his Guild, justifying his actions to an intruder who had fought him not long ago to avenge his master yet now seemed more upset about Venom's lack of courtesy.

Venom so rarely laughed that he had trouble containing the inexplicable sounds that rose up inside him. It mystified him how this strange albino could fight like a ninja but act like a child. As obnoxious as the other was, Venom's resolve to kill him faded.

He found himself calling out, "You want to use our libraries? Very well, you may use them." Venom wished he could justify this decision, but he knew he had no good reason. He added, "But if you leave these rooms, I will kill you myself."

"I can? Really!" The voice came directly from behind his shoulder, and Venom couldn't help tensing in surprise. He turned as nonchalantly as possible to face Zanuff, and was surprised to find the ninja was actually a little taller than him. From his careless manner and hot temper, Venom had gotten an impression of a small yappy dog. It was unnerving to have to look up at such a brat.

"Hn. Do as you wish."

Venom turned away. There was a possibility his mask of hair wouldn't hide his amused smile.

"All right!" Zanuff almost bounced with enthusiasm. "Thanks, Venom! Maybe you ain't the creepy weirdo I thought you was!"

The ninja didn't seem to notice the room's sudden drop in temperature, and began looking through books without the slightest concern for his safety. After skimming through several books, he looked over at Venom, who gathered the serving girl in his arms to take to the infirmary. Venom returned his questioning glance.

Chipp's face grew serious, as he inquired, "So where do you keep the books on how to rule the world?"

* * *

Anji knocked on the door leading to Baiken's room, well aware that she had felt his presence long before he stopped in front of the wooden panel. He hoped she wouldn't turn him away as she tended to do on these chill autumn evenings. This was always a subdued time of year not only for her, but for all of the Japanese Colony. 

There was a short pause, followed by her gruff alto voice, "Come in."

He slid open the door and stepped across the threshold but paused, unsure of how welcome he was. Baiken sat on her sleeping mat on the other end of the room. On her right side lay an assortment of chains and blades, and on her left, a sake jug. She faced out into the apartment complex's courtyard, where pale cherry blossoms fell through the night air as she inspected the edge of her beloved katana.

It was so romantic and beautiful. Surely even her warrior's soul would soften enough to give him a few tender words of...

"What the hell do you want, Mito?"

Anji's smile didn't slip, but he felt his eye twitch. Not quite the reaction he'd hoped for, but he'd take what he could get.

"I'm going." Anji didn't elaborate, knowing full well she'd understand.

"Ah." She gave her sword another cursory glance before laying it across her lap. Only then did she twist around to regard Anji with her good eye. Her expression was unreadable for the few moments their eyes met before she turned back to the work at hand, this time testing the steel of her claw. Anji felt his cheeks redden but he waited in silence.

They'd been in the same apartment for almost a month. Anji had returned to the Japanese Colony to gather more information on that man, and running into Baiken had been fortuitous luck. She'd agreed to stay with him while they both remained in the colony, which made it easier to lay low.

They only received the occasional visit from Chipp, who used his ninja training to slip in and out of the colony as if there was no barrier at all, but even he had not appeared in over a week. Both Baiken and Anji appreciated the relative quiet of this arrangement and were content in the small, two-room apartment.

Actually Anji had tracked down Baiken by gathering information from all the liquor stores. And he'd come to her, asking if she had extra room for him. And she only agreed to that when he offered her several excellent (and expensive) tokkuri. And while Anji was more than happy with this arrangement, he didn't have the slightest idea how Baiken felt. She seemed irritable, but in an amused and tolerant way. He hoped.

"When do we leave?" Baiken's words jolted him from his thoughts, and when he realized what she had said, his thoughts and plans melted into a useless mush.

They were leaving. Together. She was staying with him. Anji realized he must be wearing an idiotic grin but that didn't dampen his spirits. Anybody who'd been in love would understand.

Baiken turned impatiently to glare at him and repeated, "I said when do we leave?"

"Eh? Huh? Oh, right." Anji laughed nervously and tried to pick up his fragmented thoughts. "I figured I'd, er, we'd go the day after tomorrow. I'll get supplies tomorrow, but I want to leave as soon as possible."

"Okay." She turned back to her work and Anji realized it was a dismissal. She was giving him a chance to excuse himself politely so that she wouldn't have to kick him out not-so-politely.

Anji shuffled his feet, unable to decide whether to go or stay. "Um, Baiken..."

"Yeah?"

"I haven't said why."

"Why what?"

"Why I want to leave."

Baiken took a swig from her tokkuri, and shrugged her left shoulder. "Hn. Why should I care? We'll travel together as long as you can help me find that man." There was a short and dangerous pause, "And as long as you don't get in my way."

Anji realized this was the only answer he would receive and slipped out of the room, spirits somewhat dampened. He wanted Baiken to understand his reasons for finding that man. He wanted her to show an interest in his thoughts and hopes. He wanted her to respect him.

Returning to his room, he looked out onto the same courtyard as outside of Baiken's quarters. The petals still fell and the moonlight still glowed but it had somehow lost its beauty.

Anji ruefully scratched the back of his head as his lips twisted into a self-deprecating smirk. "Geez, Anji, you really are becoming an old man."

* * *

The metallic body emitted a grinding squeal as the blade smashed through its chest cavity. The blade twisted and the battered frame joined the others, also broken and twitching, on the ground. The man wrenched the sword from the wreckage then jammed it into the scorched earth. He rested a foot on what had once been a metal leg as he surveyed the bloodless carnage around him. 

Almost two-dozen robots lay in various states of dismemberment – many of them charred black and smelling of burned plastic – with electric sparks still jumping from their hands and weapons. In the faces that had remained intact the eyes were blank and lifeless, parodies of humanity.

The man held the head of one of the robots in his hand and studied it with contempt. He squeezed, crushing the delicate parts until they burst into flame. Raising it to his face, he lit the cigarette dangling from his lips and took in a long drag.

_Breakfast of champions_, he thought with a smirk and carelessly tossed the scrap over his shoulder. It bounced and rolled its way down the pile of bodies before resting next to another head, also half-melted by fire.

When the man finished his smoke, he spat out the cigarette and picked up his sword. He regarded the rising sun with half-lidded and contemptuous eyes.

_The Postwar Administration Bureau, eh? Sounds interesting._ He idly cracked his neck, then made his way from the strewn corpses toward a nearby settlement where he hoped to get some more information and a beer. He left the wreckage as a present for the morning.

Sol Badguy decided it was time to have some fun.


	3. Lady in the Red Dress

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari

* * *

**Chapter 3: Lady in the Red Dress**

Ky flipped through the file one final time as the vehicle rolled to a stop. Although he had committed it to memory days ago, one could never be too thorough.

Looking through the folder, he skimmed past the various official documents and reports to look at the small, blurry picture of a young girl wearing a maniacal grin. The report claimed she mastered the use of ki through extensive martial arts training as a child and had worked on and off as a bounty hunter to fund her restaurant. She had more interest in cooking than fighting, but her connections to the Commander Gear had earned her a place on the IPF's "watch" list.

Her name was Jam Kuradoberi.

As he set the report aside, he turned looked out the car window at Miss Kuradoberi's former restaurant. It stood on a picturesque hill a little ways outside of her hometown but now had the appearance of a war zone.

The building had mostly collapsed, its wooden beams scorched by what forensics lab had determined to be electric burns. The part that remained standing was charred as well and still emitted thin wisps of bluish smoke. The torn up ground along with the scorched grass and scattered debris indicated a fierce struggle.

While the Chinese woman had not reported the attack, the International Police made it their business to know of such incidents. Officer Cobb had arrived a day earlier to convince Jam to meet with Ky. Although she'd been hesitant at first, Cobb won her over with his easy-going charm. Cobb had a knack for public relations that Ky admired.

Ky stepped out of the car and gave the driver orders to bring Officer Cobb here once the officer finished his investigation in the town. They were to meet with Miss Kuradoberi in a few hours to get her personal testimony, but Ky wanted to see the scene of the crime firsthand. Cobb's preliminary report made several observations that worried Ky.

He waited until the vehicle disappeared around the hill, leaving behind only a cloud of dust, then made his way to the restaurant's wreckage. As he stepped over a fallen metal pipe, Ky noted the cut that had sliced it cleanly in half. He had too much experience in battle not to realize that a sword (and a sharp one at that) had caused such damage. A closer look confirmed his suspicions, but his breath still caught when he noted lightning damage reminiscent of Thunderseal's power.

So the rumors of other swords harnessing electricity were correct.

Ky tried to think of which organization had the technology for such a weapon. Zepp surely did but Gabriel would not authorize such an attack. Even if the Assassin's Guild had such weapons, they preferred killing with finesse rather than brute force. This kind of assault did not fit the profile of any existing group. Indeed it seemed more reminiscent of the Gears' raids during the Crusades but Justice was long gone, and with her death the power of the Gears had been broken forever.

Also Ky's instinct told him that this was the work of something different, something new. Many organizations had formed in the wake of the war, including the International Police Force itself, but not all of them were dedicated to good. Although such a group seeking power could exist, for such a young and hitherto unknown organization to target so many strong people concerned Ky.

He tried to consider the motivations of this unknown force but an accusing shriek interrupted his thoughts. "Bastard! You decided to come back, eh?"

There was a flash of movement in the corner of Ky's eye and only years of battle experience saved him from the fist aimed at his throat. Although he did not have time to fully draw, he managed to pull Thunderseal halfway out from under his cloak and use the guard to block the punch.

He leapt back and freed Thunderseal from its sheath before settling into a defensive stance. In a glance he assessed his opponent. She was young and wearing a short Chinese-style dress, her body balanced on one leg in some eastern martial arts position. Although her mouth was a thin line of anger rather than a cocky grin, there was no mistaking her identity.

"Miss Kuradoberi!" Ky called out in surprise.

This familiarity only increased her irritation, and her eyes narrowed. "So you know who I am? Then you should've known that this time I won't let you get away!"

She charged again, directing a kick at his face. He ducked and rolled out of the way, but did not have a chance to rise from his crouch before she struck again. He again blocked, this time with the flat of Thunderseal's blade, but the impact sent a jolt through Ky's arms and pushed him back a few meters. He could see the residual ki still crackling along his blade as it mingled with the sword's lightning power.

Any other time, he would have admired her finesse at ki-manipulation. As it was he could only cry out, "Miss Kuradoberi, please!" He had to keep trying to get through to her – fighting back was not an option even though it was only a matter of time before his defenses failed and one of those ki blasts would connect.

Jam did not pay any attention to his words and began another charge. Ky was ready and as she dashed past him to strike him in the back, he took one hand off of Thunderseal and grabbed her arm. He jerked her forward, fighting for a grip on her forearm as he tried to restrain her. But even as she lost her balance, Jam swung around and kicked him in the stomach.

Thunderseal fell from his hand as he collapsed to his knees, the blow powerful enough to stop his breath. Jam neatly landed on her hands and without effort flipped back into an attack stance. Ky's eyes flickered to the sword lying in the rubble some distance away and knew it was out of reach. Armed, he'd managed to hold on, but in a hand-to-hand fight he was outmatched.

The woman realized this as well and flashed a victorious grin as she concentrated her ki. She intended to end the match with the next hit. As she absorbed the bright energy into her body, Ky stretched out his arm and tried to reason with her one last time.

"You don't understand! You've mistaken me for somebody else!"

Jam paused long enough to reply in a venomous tone, "Idiot! You think I'd forget that outfit and sword? I remember you and your friends. And now you're gonna pay for ruining my business!"

She ran at him again, faster than before, with her body low to the ground. At the last moment she sprang into the air, flipping around to bring her heel down across Ky's head. As her foot sliced through the air, fire seemed to blossom around it and Ky had only enough time to throw himself gracelessly to one side.

His shoulder smashed into the ground, sending jarring pain up his arm. Although his arm pulsed with hot numbness, he ignored the ache without bothering to assess the damage. Instead he rolled to his feet and dashed to his sword. Executing another roll, he grasped the blade with his good arm as he slid past then sprang to his feet. He pivoted, balanced on the balls of his feet, to face the woman and shifted into an attack stance. He brought his injured arm up to clasp Thunderseal's hilt.

She was already coming at him and Ky raised Thunderseal into the air, preparing to summon a wave of electricity. Even as he mentally apologized for the pain he would cause her, he focused his will on the sword and mastered its chaotic power. Her charges left her vulnerable to distance attacks and as he tilted the weapon to release the energy –

The battle came to an abrupt end.

"Jam! Detective Kiske! Wait!"

Both fighters recognized that voice and glanced at the approaching figure. Jam's eyes widened and she planted her feet on the ground, pushing herself into a back flip. She spun through the air and landed a few meters away, balanced in a defensive position. Ky hastily brought his weapon to the ground, letting it reabsorb the excess energy. A numbing tingle shot up through his hands as if in annoyance, but Ky still sighed in relief. Thunderseal's sting, even when not deadly, was painful and not meant for the innocent. He looked at his opponent who remained on guard. She seemed content to wait a safe distance away for Officer Cobb's explanation.

Cobb was sprinting from the road and as he came to a halt, slightly out of breath, he waved his hands to emphasize his words. "It's okay! It's okay, Jam! This is Detective Ky Kiske. I told you about him, remember? He's here to ask you some questions for our investigation."

Jam slipped out of her fighting stance and turned to face Cobb. The determination and anger on her face melted into a coquettish grin. She clasped her hands in excitement.

"Tyler! Why didn't you come sooner? I was just checking on my property, when I saw him prowling around. I didn't realize he was a policeman; he looks just like the bandits." She turned back to Ky, who at last replaced Thunderseal under his cloak.

For the first time, she took a closer look at his face and warm appraisal replaced the former suspicion. "Well, will you look at that! You're a lot prettier than those creeps!" She came closer and Ky couldn't help taking a step back. She added with concern, "I hope I didn't leave any scars!"

"I-I am fine, Miss Kuradoberi."

She took another step, her look predatory and her tone flirtatious. "What were you doing here, anyway? I thought we were going to meet this afternoon for your investigation."

"I had hoped to see the scene myself, so that I could better understand the situation." Ky composed himself as best he could. "I think I've seen enough. Now I'd like to hear your account, if you don't mind. You can ride with us back to the village if you don't have your own transportation."

Ky practically flinched when she took his arm in hers. Her touch was as light as her attacks were fierce but this only increased Ky's unease. Part of him had hoped she would turn down the offer, but instead she seemed delighted.

"How kind of you, Detective Kiske," she purred. "We'll go back to the inn where I'm staying and treat your wounds. Is that okay, Ky? I can call you Ky, right?"

"I'd prefer Detective Kiske, if you don't mind, Miss Kuradoberi." Ky looked to Cobb for help, but the other was busy hiding his smirk. Kiske gave him a brief glare, but allowed her to drag him toward the road where the car waited.

He did his best to hide his dismay when Jam seated herself between Ky and Cobb. When he moved to take the front seat instead, she tangled a hand into his cloak and jerked him back into the vehicle. He settled into the seat, trying to conceal his nervousness, as the car pulled out onto the winding road. When Jam placed her hand casually on his thigh, he realized it was going to be a long ride.

* * *

The ride was not as bad as he expected. Not only was the inn nearby but Cobb seemed more than happy to flirt with Jam. Ky had stared out the window in pensive silence, responding to her questions with vague and distracted answers, and after a few minutes she lost interest in the detective. She removed her hand from his leg to touch the more enthusiastic Cobb on the elbow. They murmured to each other, and every now and then she would giggle softly at one of his quips. Ky gave a small frown of disapproval, but secretly appreciated his officer's unprofessional conduct. It gave him time to consider the issues at hand. 

He did not like that the attackers looked like him. He still wore his uniform from the Sacred Order not only to honor his fallen mentor, Kliff Undersn, but also to act as a constant reminder of the responsibilities he still had. Although he no longer served as a Holy Knight, Ky continued to obey its edict of justice and order in the service of God.

Most of the other former members had retired their uniforms, and it was out of the question that they would resort to attacking one young woman. That went against everything they believed. He and his men had fought so hard and sacrificed so much during the Crusades that the thought of some imposters dishonoring the Order's name upset Ky more than he cared to acknowledge. The case had become personal.

Occupied by his broodings, he didn't notice that they had arrived until the driver began opening his door. Ky recovered from his distraction and slid out of the vehicle. He offered his arm to the lady and she eagerly accepted. After exiting the car, Jam ushered him and Cobb inside the inn. The place had little midday activity and was empty except for a sleepy innkeeper and an old man who sat reading the newspaper. Having evaluated all of the downstairs rooms, Ky picked out an isolated sitting area where they could have relative privacy. He would have preferred the police station, but Jam refused to go.

Before he could begin the interview, Jam insisted that he take off his heavy cloak so she could treat his "wounds." He protested at first, but gave in when a particularly nasty gleam appeared in her eyes. He and Cobb had no choice but to wait in patience while she went off in search of a first aid kit. When she returned, Jam took the seat next to Ky's and began running her hand up and down his arm, testing for injuries. At last satisfied she pulled out a roll of bandages.

Ky tried not to flinch, as he watched her wrap his shoulder in gauze with great tenderness. He spoke through his teeth, "Please repeat what happened five nights ago, Miss Kuradoberi."

Jam's fingers rested on his arm as she considered. Ky tried to extricate his arm, but the fingers tightened into a vice grip. Ky let his arm go limp.

She began a fairly straightforward explanation and refused to call him anything but "Detective Ky." Her hand slowly drifted down Ky's arm as she spoke, but Ky ignored the distractions to concentrate on her story.

Jam explained that she finished cleaning up around midnight when she heard a strange metallic sound. When she went outside to investigate, a man wearing a Knight's uniform and wielding a sword that shot lightning bolts, attacked her.

Despite her surprise she managed to gain the upper hand, but before she could finish him, five or six other men also wearing the uniform ambushed her. She retreated indoors but they followed her. In the course of the battle, her restaurant and home caught fire from a stray electric shot.

"And so when the other townspeople arrived to help put out the fire, the men fled." Jam yawned, bored at having to repeat the story, and gave Ky a hungry look. "You're much stronger than they were, Detective Ky. If only you had been there to protect me..." She pressed herself against his side as Ky tried to pull away as politely as possible. At last uncoiling her arms, he slipped out of his seat and began to pace across the room as an excuse to get away from her.

"This metallic sound you mentioned. Have you ever heard anything like it?"

Jam shook her head, "Nope. I know it came from some sort of machine, but even when I've gone into the cities, I've never heard a noise like that."

Ky's eyes flickered to Cobb, who was taking notes on the interview. Cobb glanced up, his eyes mirroring Ky's questioning look. He shrugged, also unsure of the sound's origin.

Ky brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes before asking, "Could you please describe the attackers to the best of your ability?"

Jam pressed her lips with a fingertip, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Mmmm, let's see. As I said, I didn't get a good look at any of them. They all kinda looked the same; I think they might have been wearing masks. Their eyes glowed yellow maybe." Another thought came to her and she brightened. "Oh! And they must have been wearing some kind of lightweight armor because my hits didn't hurt them at all; it was like punching iron."

Armor...that would explain the metal grinding sound. Ky couldn't think of any criminal organization that wore such suits and local thugs could hardly afford such expensive equipment. Ky began to compose a mental list of leads and sources he needed to follow up once he returned to headquarters.

"One final question, Miss Kuradoberi. Do you have any idea why they might have attacked you?"

Jam shrugged, but a conceited smirk lit her face. "Who knows? They probably wanted to test their skills on me because I'm such a great fighter. You know, Detective Ky, I defeated that Commander Gear that showed up a while ago. I hunted her down for the bounty and killed her," she snapped her fingers, "like that."

Ky nodded but turned so his face would reveal nothing. Kuradoberi had taken credit for Dizzy's death and collected the reward on her head, but Ky knew all too well that the Gear was still alive. He himself had found her after her encounter with Sol and entrusted the powerful but kind-hearted girl to Johnny and his crew. It reassured him that everyone still believed the rumors of her destruction. As long as no one knew she lived, Dizzy would be safe.

He turned back to Jam, giving her a curt bow. "Thank you, Miss Kuradoberi, for your time. We may need you again if we have any further questions."

Jam smiled and rose to take his hand, her eyes heavy-lidded. "I'll be more than happy to answer them, Detective Ky. Stop by any time."

After shaking her hand as professionally as possible, Ky gestured for Cobb to rise as he moved toward the door. Jam rushed over before they could escape. Although she did not block the exit in so many words, she was strategically placed in the doorway making it awkward to leave.

"Oh, Detective Ky! Tyler-dear! You must stay for dinner. I make the best fried rice!"

Ky tried to find a way around the woman that didn't involve physical contact and seeing none, looked for another way out of the room that wasn't through the window. His options limited, Ky began to blurt out a list of excuses. "I-I'm afraid that is against procedures, um, Miss Kuradoberi. And, and it's necessary to look through this new information as...as soon as possible. So if you don't mind..."

He stopped as her polite smile became strained. There was that hard edge in her eyes that made Ky deeply afraid. The honey left her voice and she spoke through clenched teeth, "But. I. Insist."

Tyler Cobb, who had remained silent through most of the inquiry, now rushed over to Ky's side and put a hand on his superior's shoulder. "Oh, Detective Kiske would love to stay. Wouldn't you, Sir?" His grip tightened and their eyes meet for an instant. Cobb only challenged his authority on rare occasions, but his look said they'd better humor the lady.

Ky opened his mouth to protest. They really had to follow protocol and not fraternize with witnesses, but when he considered the consequences of angering her, he could only nod weakly and allow himself to be led to a small kitchen table.

She brightened, the annoyance replaced with delight, and began to bustle around in the kitchen. Ky and Cobb sat in silence, both too embarrassed to speak. At one point Ky spared his subordinate a brief glare but Cobb shrugged his shoulders sheepishly and developed a sudden interest in the table's wood grain that required his entire attention.

Jam filled the quiet with inane chatter but before long, she was setting huge platefuls of food before the policemen. Ky was pleasantly surprised to find the dishes smelled delicious and tasted just as good. He hadn't known what to expect based on the chef's personality alone. Cobb cheerfully began to load his plate down and Ky sampled a little from every dish.

The young Chinese woman gauged their reactions and seemed pleased. She served them tea but it was green rather than Ky's beloved Earl Grey. He drank anyway and smiled as best he could, not wanting to slight his hostess. She was scary.

After Cobb finished off a good portion of the food, the policemen managed to excuse themselves and begin edging their way to the door. When they made it outside, they scurried to the car, ignoring Jam's fussing.

She waved, voice full of enthusiasm. "Please come back, Detective Ky! Tyler! If you have questions...Any questions at all...!"

Ky forced a weak smile and waved back before closing the car door and locking it. When car pulled out onto the main road, leaving Jam and her village behind, the young detective allowed himself a sigh and sunk into his seat.

Cobb said aloud what Ky was thinking, "What a frightening woman." Ky only closed his eyes, feeling drained, but Cobb continued in a tone of grudging admiration, "It's hard to find a woman like that."

Ky cracked his eyes open to give his subordinate a sidelong glance. "I, for one, am grateful for small mercies," he remarked dryly.

Officer Cobb chuckled, "Oh, c'mon, Sir. Even you have to be a little impressed. A great body and a pretty face with a firecracker personality to match? And she can cook. That's got to count for something."

She could cook, that was true. And now that he thought about it, she was quite attractive with her warm brown eyes, soft hair and confident smile. Ky rested his chin on his hand and watched the countryside flow past outside the window. It was a long drive to the nearest airport, and as he looked across the lonely expanse of land, his mind unwillingly turned to another face, similar yet so different from hers.

His eyes were brown, but never warm. They were cold and hard and depending on the light, could turn almost red or gold. There was nothing pretty about him, but his damned eyes had always glowed with inner fire, full of dangerous and hypnotic power.

Ky, not for the first time, found himself wondering where Sol was at this exact moment. Despite being at the top of the International Police Force's wanted list, Sol had a talent for disappearing when he didn't want to be found. Since finishing off Justice, he had been spotted only during his search for Dizzy. And after he had managed to track her down, Sol had vanished without a trace.

Ky knew from personal experience that he wouldn't locate Sol unless the other had an agenda that involved Ky. This frustrated Ky to no end. When Sol left the Sacred Order with the stolen Fireseal, Ky had pursued, refusing to let him escape with the holy sword. It was only much later, when he finally did catch up with the other, that he realized Sol had been leading him on from the beginning. Ky had not tracked him down – Sol had let Ky catch him.

Even now, it still stung to think about how easily Sol manipulated him. No one could humiliate him quite like Sol. Even when he served under Ky in the Sacred Order, the older man had always regarded him with contempt, as if Ky were nothing more than a bratty child. And Ky had never felt so inept until Sol pierced him with that hooded gaze, unimpressed by his skill or courage.

Even if Ky could forgive him for leaving the Order and stealing the sword, he would never forgive Sol for manipulating him.

He realized his hand was clenched around Thunderseal's hilt in a tight grip that made his knuckles turn white. Ky forced himself to release it and turned away from the window, wishing he could do the same with Sol and the past. He gave his subordinate a sidelong glace, but saw that Cobb sat facing forward, careful not to look in Ky's direction. This meant he had missed nothing.

Ky shifted, annoyed at himself for getting lost in thought.

"Officer Cobb."

"Sir?"

"When we get back to headquarters, I want you to look for any mention of a new type of lightweight armor. Also see if you can find anything on technology for creating electric swords as well as research done on sacred weapons."

"Yes sir."

Ky thought about Jam's words. She'd mentioned Dizzy to impress Ky, but the detective suspected there was a grain of truth in her bragging. Everything came back to Dizzy just as everything eventually returned to Justice and her mysterious creator – that man, whom Ky knew only from fearfully whispered rumors. Whoever he was, he seemed behind everything from the destruction of Japan to the war with the Gears. If he were somehow connected to these attackers, Ky would be that much closer to finding him and learning his true purpose.

"Also assign somebody to keep watch on Miss Kuradoberi. There's a good chance those men may return."

"I've already contacted Officers Korner and Ryder. They should be arriving in China sometime this evening."

Ky nodded, appreciative of Cobb's meticulous efficiency. Despite his easy-going attitude, he was best officer under Kiske. Ky preferred to work alone, but he knew that the other's administrative skills were invaluable to this case.

As he shuffled through various other files, Ky asked already knowing the answer, "Have we managed to track down the other people on the 'watch' list?"

Cobb shook his head and his lips twisted into a helpless frown. "Unfortunately not, sir. Most of the ones we do keep tabs on have already disappeared. I suppose that makes sense if we're assuming the perpetrators have about the same information as we do. There are more elusive ones who could still be out there, but we'd need more manpower if we want to find them.

"For example, there's that woman from the Assassin's Guild, who hasn't been seen since she killed Zato-One. And there's an American ninja, a ki-user, who is suspected of murder. Not only are they both highly trained, but they could be anywhere. Hell, they might already be dead or captured and we have no way of knowing."

Ky flipped through his list of names and profiles. Many were now listed as missing, which gave the detective an uneasy feeling. All of these people were skilled fighters. That they could disappear from under the International Police Force's nose frustrated Ky and he found himself recalling the simpler days of the Order. In those years, he handled problems with his sword rather than with layer upon layer of bureaucracy. War simplified everything, he mused ruefully.

His fingers stopped when he reached a Japanese-looking name. After pausing to study the man's information, he asked Cobb, "And what about these Japanese fighters? We can monitor all their activity in the Japanese Colony, correct?" When Cobb hesitated, Ky gave him a sharp look. "What is it, Officer Cobb?"

Cobb grimaced as he answered, "I thought you knew, sir. Two of the Japanese have left the Colony again – Mito Anji and Seishino Baiken."

Ky set the files on his lap as he gave his assistant a sharp look. "How long ago?"

"Just two days, sir. They managed to slip out, but we already have men looking for them."

Ky pinched the bridge of his nose. This was either bad luck or fortuitous timing. If he could find the two Japanese before the mysterious assailants, he could use them to draw out the culprits. But if the culprits got to them first...

"When we get back to headquarters, get me all the information and leads we have on those two."

"Of course, sir."

Ky turned back towards the window and closed his eyes. He would rest now before the real work began. Detective work was never easy, requiring careful assessments and patient backtracking if the leads proved wrong. His job at the IPF could be just as tiring as commanding the Sacred Order during the Crusades.

He slipped into a light half-sleep but still thought about the two Japanese. The man wielded some sort of holy weapon and the woman was rumored to have witnessed Japan's destruction, although that would make her almost two hundred years old. However valid the rumors, she'd proven her skill at the Sacred Knight's Tournament. Each had unquestionable skills and experience, and had proven difficult to catch in previous times.

But Ky did not worry. He knew it was only a matter of time before he would find them. They were not Sol Badguy after all. And this time, Ky Kiske would not fail.


	4. Something New and Something Old

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari

**Notes:**  
I have very limited knowledge about geography in the Guilty Gear world. Thus I used my own places for various organizations and events. Please don't mind if they're off ;;.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Something New and Something Old**

Venom was unnerved at how easily Chipp slipped into his daily routine. It had been a little over a week since Venom first confronted him in the library. After that Chipp began to come every night. The assassin assumed this would disrupt his own schedule or at the very least introduce chaos in his otherwise orderly routine, but the other's patterns had an almost calming effect on Venom.

Every night on his way to bed, Venom would pass through the library and find the ninja hunched over this or that book. He was unobtrusive, usually in a corner reading with a pocket-sized flashlight. Venom pretended not to notice him and went straight to bed. When he got up just before dawn, the stars still visible in the pale sky, he'd again pass through the library on his way to the gardens for his morning meditations. Chipp would still be there, perhaps with a different book or in a slightly different position, but still focused on the literature in front of him. By the time Venom returned to his quarters to shower and prepare for the day, Chipp would have already disappeared, leaving with the rising sun.

The first few times, Venom felt a moment of surprise upon seeing the other seated in the shadowy corners. Their bargain still had a surreal feel about it. Surely in reality no one would ask him for use of the Guild's library, and of course he'd never agree to such an absurd request. But Chipp had asked and Venom had agreed, and the initial awkwardness wore off after only a few nights, replaced by comfortable silence.

That had been another surprise – the ninja could actually keep his mouth shut. From their few previous encounters as well as his information on Chipp, Venom had gotten the impression that the other stopped talking about as often as he stopped fighting – when he was sleeping or unconscious. But during his time in the library, Chipp uttered only a handful of words as he focused on studying. He never sought out Venom, and when he did address the other, it was only to find a particular book or ask for his personal recommendations.

Venom feigned annoyance at the questions but it pleased him that someone took such an interest in the Guild's library. Venom had loved books as a child and now found he took a renewed pleasure in the library's contents. Gradually he began to spend his evenings reading rather than training. He picked up books he'd loved but forgotten and read without pause until sometime after midnight at which point he'd look up and see the ninja seated a little ways away, also engrossed in a book. This happened every midnight without fail, and it soon ceased to amaze him how quiet the albino could be when he tried.

Even when they occupied the same room, they seldom spoke and the occasional sounds of Chipp popping his back or Venom shifting in his seat seemed loud. Venom, who preferred quiet solitude, was satisfied by this arrangement, and Chipp also seemed content to study the various historical and political documents that the Guild had accumulated over the years. Venom was sometimes tempted to ask Chipp how much he understood from the books but refrained. He enjoyed basking in the silence and also feared the answer would be depressingly little.

Although the last week had given Venom a newfound respect for the ninja, he still realized the limitations of the other's abilities. He knew Chipp would never become president just as he knew Chipp would never change the world, but he found himself afraid to shatter the other's dream. Despite growing up on the streets, Chipp remained refreshingly naive and Venom did not wish to shatter that innocence.

He rather liked their arrangement.

The most bothersome part of the whole situation was explaining it to Clyne. When he informed his second that neither servants nor Guild members were to disturb anyone found in the library, his lieutenant arched an eyebrow but otherwise hid his expression.

He asked if anyone had special admittance into Guild grounds, but Venom replied that the order to kill all trespassers on sight still remained in affect. Clyne bowed and left the room without a word. It annoyed Venom that he couldn't read the other man.

The rumor soon began that Venom had recruited a new member, who was now going through a series of trials. Although far from true, Venom encouraged such speculation. It saved him the trouble of not only explaining why he was letting someone into the Guild's library but also that the said person had a long-standing hatred of the Guild. Things were already strange enough without attempting to justify his actions, and in truth he had no good reason to leave Chipp alive.

As a pupil of Tsuyoshi and a skilled fighter, Chipp threatened the Guild and it was Venom's duty to Lord Zato to eliminate all potential threats. Yet he had no desire to harm the other. Chipp was everything the Assassin's Guild was not. He was hot-tempered and naive whereas the Guild was cold and unfeeling. He lived in a world of idealism and clear answers, while Venom dwelt in a place of corrupt businessmen and ruthless politics. Chipp had no place here, but Venom couldn't help enjoying his presence. When he looked at the younger man, he remembered himself as a child – before Guild politics and his first kill.

As it was, Chipp had found his way into Venom's routine and became a part of his evening. Venom himself didn't realize how important a part until he came to the library one night looking for some reading material. He took measured steps down the aisle as he scanned the titles.

Although he appeared unperturbed, he felt a sensation of uncertainty as if something were out of place. It wasn't until he'd located the book and began flipping through the pages that he realized the source of his disquiet. Chipp was not in his usual place.

Venom hesitated before replacing the book on the shelf and walking through the aisles to the other end of the main room. He passed row upon row of books but saw no sign of the other. He was alone in the large room. The peaceful quiet of the library suddenly seemed stifling and heavy rather than comfortable.

He almost called out but Chipp's name stuck in his throat and he closed his mouth with an audible click. He cursed himself, immediately feeling silly for even caring where the ninja was. Chipp was a nuisance and just one more issue with which Venom had to deal. With him gone, the Guild would run more smoothly and Venom would have one less concern.

Yet Venom couldn't help passing through the next room and even ascending the narrow spiral staircase leading to the second level of the library. It overlooked the main level and had more sitting areas and fewer books than any other part of the library. Venom had not come up since Lord Zato had disappeared, and the steps creaked under his unfamiliar weight. When he reached the top he saw the other man frozen next to a small round table. Chipp peered down at it, apparently engrossed.

With a start, Venom recognized it as the chessboard with which he'd once played against Lord Zato. He did not have to see the board to know that the pieces were still as they had left them. Venom had been called away on an assignment, and three days later Zato-One disappeared from the Assassin's Guild forever. The memory seemed vivid and fresh – Zato had just begun his turn and toyed with his remaining rook. He considered the board with blinded eyes that saw everything, but Venom still had checkmate in five moves. Even with the demon, Zato was not Venom's equal in chess.

The assassin's hands trembled as the wave of memories returned. He could not will them away any more than he could ignore the pain that rose in him like bile. The happiness of the memory, tainted by his ever-present sorrow, soured into longing.

Chipp, his attention focused on the board, remained oblivious to this hurt and called out, "Hey, Venom. You play chess?"

Venom blinked as the other's words jerked him out of his despair. He felt unwilling to respond, but at last replied with a curt, "Yes."

Chipp looked up, a pleased grin on his face that caught Venom by surprise. "My master played chess. He also liked shogi, I think." He looked back at the board, considering. "He was pretty good."

"He was."

Chipp looked up, his red eyes confused, and Venom realized his slip. Thus far he'd been careful to avoid revealing his connection to Tsuyoshi. The ninja was especially prickly in regards to his master, and Venom had no desire to start another fight.

Chipp gave him a quizzical look. "Huh?"

"I said, 'he was?'"

The confusion vanished and an adoring expression appeared on Chipp's face. "Yup! Not that I played him, it's just that he was good at everything. I never wanted to play, 'cuz it looked boring." He gave a nonchalant shrug, but his face darkened and the shadows obscured his expression. "Now I wish I'd learned."

Chipp's eyes remained fixed on the board, but Venom could read the flickers of emotion as if they were his own. Deep sorrow, anger and a pain that did not fade with time. The ninja absently picked up a black pawn and clenched it in his fist until his knuckles turned white, but remained lost in thought.

Venom waited and after a moment the shadow passed from Chipp's expression as suddenly as it came. He put the pawn back on the table and turned back to Venom.

"Hey. Teach me how to play."

Venom regarded the other with amazement. The hatred had vanished from his eyes along with the sorrow. Only his single-minded intensity remained. His eyes were clear, too clear for one who had lost everything. Venom felt himself drawn into that gaze, unable to break away.

He wanted to say it was too late or that he didn't have time. He wanted to call Chipp a fool and find anything, any excuse, to keep from playing with Zato's board and Zato's pieces. He wanted everything to stay as it was and let his grief continue to gnaw at him as punishment for his failure. But under that look of those piercing red eyes, tormented but unbroken, Venom felt his protests melt away.

Without a word, he walked to the table. For an instant, his hand wavered above the board. He again felt the urge to drive Chipp away and return to his familiar solitude. It seemed that by resetting these pieces, he was betraying Lord Zato. But the desire passed and with it, the uncertainty. With his usual precision he put the pieces into their initial places and outlined each piece as he moved it.

"The pawns go in this row. They can move one space forward except when attacking, and then they move diagonally forward. These are your rooks. They can go in a straight line across unlimited spaces. The knights move in an L-shape like this or this, and the bishops are like the rooks, only they move diagonally. The queen can do any of the other pieces' moves except the knights', and the king can move one space in any direction."

Chipp seated himself opposite Venom, staring at the board with an intent look. He scrunched his brow, trying to absorb the information, and began to order his side of the board, taking great care to double and triple check the positions of the pieces. Although he fidgeted like a small child and compulsively twirled each piece in his fingers before placing it on the board, he seemed to understand.

Venom asked, "Do you have any questions?"

"Nope." Chipp paused. "Wait, yeah. Can I play with the black pieces?"

Venom shook his head, "You should play white. White goes first, so it's at a slight advantage. I'll take black because I'm more experienced."

Chipp propped his chin on his hand. "So you usually play with black?"

Venom hesitated before unwillingly answering, "I usually played with white."

Zato had always insisted on playing with black, despite knowing Venom was the better player. When Venom had asked why, Zato smiled, and teasingly brushed his hand across Venom's chin. _You're so pure, Venom. It's only proper that you play the white pieces._

The words and the caress had set Venom's heart pounding and he'd flushed red beneath his mask of hair, the feeling of Zato's hand remaining long after they began to play. Zato managed to win a game before the other focused enough to return his attention to the pieces before him.

The unbidden memory caused Venom's heart to pound even now, but Chipp's curious look brought him back to the present. Chipp regarded first Venom, then the board, then Venom again. An imploring look appeared on his face.

"But black is so much cooler!"

Venom couldn't help a slight smile as he shook his head in vague exasperation. "Very well. Play with black." He turned to board around. "Then I will begin."

In the first game Venom beat him in eight moves. In the second game it took longer, but Chipp still didn't stand a chance. They played another then another, and Chipp continued to lose by a wide margin. Venom only half-concentrated, expecting the other to grow bored or frustrated, but each loss only steeled Chipp's determination.

After a while, Venom found himself actually playing with Chipp. He did testing moves to see the other's reaction and sacrificed pieces to invite Chipp's attack. Venom found that Chipp played in the same way he fought. He favored quick flurries of attacks and rarely went on the defensive. For Venom, he was laughably easy to beat, but as the night progressed he found himself enjoying the games more and more.

He began studying Chipp's expressions more than the board. Chipp's face was an open book. He'd look at each piece, consider the moves then hesitantly pick it up. He'd replace it, pick up another piece and again regard the board. Every now and then he'd glance at Venom with eyes full of suspicion to gauge his reaction, but Venom kept his face neutral under his long hair. The other's guilelessness amused Venom.

So distracted was Venom that he made several almost-fatal moves and only escaped checkmate through the other's inexperience. Chipp seemed to realize his near win, which only encouraged him. He saw it as a sign of his improvement rather than his opponent's lack of concentration.

But despite these small victories, Chipp at last grew frustrated. Having used up his limited patience, he began to bounce in his seat while waiting for Venom to make his moves and placed his own pieces decisively but poorly. When Venom, having again calmly declared 'checkmate,' began to reset the board, the other brought his fist to the table making the small pawns jump and an unlucky knight fall over.

His red eyes bored into Venom, who looked up at him with curiosity. Chipp opened his mouth to speak but gave up with a sigh. He put his head in his hands and further mussed his already messy hair.

"Damn, damn, damn! It's no good! I'm failing my master!"

Venom regarded the agitated ninja with unflappable calm. "Would you like some advice?"

Chipp spared Venom an irritable look before rising from his seat and popping his neck with several audible cracks. He proceeded to stretch, arching his back like a cat, and turned back to the board and his opponent.

"Ch'. Hell no."

Chipp looked out the window, and Venom followed his gaze. It was almost dawn, and the stars were beginning to fade into the pinkish horizon. The assassin felt a moment of surprise, only now realizing how long their session must have taken.

Chipp did not seem distressed by the time but continued in a self-assured voice, "When I come back, I'm gonna beat you at chess and bring honor to my master." His voice was so full of confidence that if Venom didn't know how he played, he might have believed him.

He smiled in amusement as he replied, "Hn. I won't go easy on you."

Chipp turned his head to flash his own grin before hiding his face behind a dark scarf. With a practiced motion, he wrapped his head and neck so that only two red eyes and several tufts of pale hair remained visible. His words were muffled but his voice strong as he retorted, "Damn straight! I don't fight weak people. Wait for me – you'll see how strong I become."

Chipp raised two fingers to his lips and muttered an incantation. He vanished as the ninjitsu hid not only his body but his aura as well. Only a faint afterimage of the younger man remained in that spot before also fading.

Venom did not move, but remained rooted in place. He felt tired but had no desire to sleep. He looked silently at the abandoned chessboard and ran a gentle finger down the edge, feeling the smooth texture of the wood.

"I will." He whispered almost inaudibly before descending from the balcony and out of the library. Turning his mind to the day's tasks, Venom went to the garden and slipped into his daily routine.

* * *

Ky rose from his desk and felt a wave of exhaustion as back muscles strained in protest. Glancing at the clock he realized that he'd lost track of time and it was now well into the afternoon. He looked at the stacks of papers on his desk and allowed himself a sigh. Over twelve hours and he'd hardly put a dent in the reports. 

Cobb had executed Ky's orders without delay, and the detective barely had time to sit before the papers and files flooded onto his desk. He had two rookies organizing the various leads, which they reported to Cobb. It was Cobb's job to get the important information to Ky.

While Ky focused his energy on locating the two Japanese, leaving Cobb to synthesize the other information concerning black-market technology, holy weapons and the locations of other "watch" list people, he believed even the smallest detail could influence a case. For that reason, Ky still looked through all of this information before sending it back to Cobb to organize properly.

Even with help, sorting through this case took all of Ky's energy. He had not left headquarters since the previous evening, working through the long night. When he took brief snatches of rest on the futon in his office, his mind continued to analyze the case making true sleep impossible. The adrenaline had kicked in some time after dawn, but now it had faded and fatigue threatened to overcome him. Ky knew that pushing himself any further would only lead to impaired judgment and at last set aside the case.

It was time for a break.

Ky walked out of his office, nodding politely to his subordinates as he sought out Cobb's messy desk. As usual the workspace was covered in papers, burying the wood beneath. Several stacks balanced precariously on the left side of the table, and Ky approached this arrangement with wariness. He'd only made the mistake once of upsetting this delicate balance and Cobb, despite his lower rank, had given Ky an earful.

In fact, his assistant's desk always appeared thus, no matter how much or how little work the man hand. This frustrated Ky, who was naturally orderly and neat, to no end. But even he could not deny Cobb's talents at combing through information and eventually gave up on trying to organize the other's so-called system.

Cobb looked up from the notes that he scribbled in angular shorthand on a crumpled piece of paper.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm going to stop by the coffee shop. Do you want me to pick something up for you?"

Cobb gave him a bemused look. "You ought to send one of the rookies. I know Officer Hanson would be more than happy to go."

Ky gave him a tight smile. "I know, but I'd rather go myself. It gives me an excuse to get out of the office."

Cobb's eyes lit with understanding and he looked around with a furtive glance before rising from his seat. Reaching for his jacket, he flashed a mischievous smile.

"Well, in that case, I'll go with you."

The coffee shop was only a few blocks from the IPF's headquarters, but it gave Ky a chance to get some fresh air as well as time to reflect on his case. Upon leaving the office, he immediately felt energized and refreshed and he couldn't contain an elated smile.

Although he'd only been working for the International Police Force for a little over a year, the old cobblestones felt familiar under his feet. They contained years of human history and progress and this soothed him. Vienna was one of the few cities to remain mostly unscathed during the Crusades, and it pleased Ky to imagine that this was how the great city of Paris looked before the war.

Cobb walked ahead, his longer legs covering more ground with each stride, but Ky was more than happy to linger. As he admired the old European architecture that always reminded him of home, he heard the sound of feet pounding on the cobblestones.

A chorus of voices cried out, "Kyyy!"

He stopped walking, causing the pack of small children to crash into him. For an instant his footing wavered, but then he regained his balance as the kids circled around him. They clutched at his cloak, tugging on it to get his attention, and bounced from one foot to the other, their little heads bobbing in excitement. They all shouted, trying to be heard over each other.

"Ky! Ky! Where were you? Are you solving a murder?"

"Why don't you play with us anymore, Ky?"

"Ky, show me Thunderseal! I wanna see Thunderseal!"

"Take me to the sweets shop like you said you would!"

An indulgent smile broke on Ky's face, and he ruffled one boy's hair. The child seemed torn between annoyance at being treated like a kid and happiness that Ky paid attention to him. A girl grasped his hand and pulled insistently. He turned to her and knelt down to look her in the eye.

"Mademoiselle Janice, how may I serve you?"

Janice giggled and grasped Ky's lapel. "C'mon, Ky!" She cried, "My dolls want to have a tea party. You promised you'd play when you got back."

A boy, her older brother, shoved Janice aside. "Naw, Jan, Ky wants to play 'Crusaders and Gears' with us. I'm gonna be a Gear!" He snarled and made his hands into claws, trying to appear ferocious. His eyes crossed from the effort, which made his expression all the more comic. Janice turned away and began to pout.

Ky couldn't help a smile as he rose to his feet, "I'm sorry, everyone. I'm really busy right now. We can play some other time."

A sigh of disappointment went through the pack of children and a deeper, adult voice called out, "But I want to play now."

The voice caused Ky's heart to skip a beat, and his body tensed instinctively. His head shot up and he looked past the crowd of children and focused on a man he only now noticed.

"Sol."

Sol Badguy sauntered up to Ky and the children. He playfully rested a hand on a pale boy's head. Although Fireseal wasn't visible, he gazed at Ky with bold confidence, his usual smirk curving his lips.

"Hey, kiddo. It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

The kids continued to cling to Ky, but fell silent with Sol's arrival. They seemed to sense the tension in the air and now looked back and forth between Ky and Sol with uneasy curiosity. Ky didn't need to turn around to know that Cobb stood a few paces back, unmoving but watching the former Crusader. He probably had recognized the wanted man by now, and was waiting for Ky to give the order. Ky knew Sol better than that and prayed Cobb wouldn't do anything foolish to provoke the man while children were in such great danger.

"What are you doing here?" Ky kept his voice calm so he wouldn't frighten the children, but his words were cold and tense.

"I already told you. I wanna play."

"Just go, damn you. I don't want trouble."

"Oh?" Sol drawled, "Who says I'm going to cause trouble? And here I thought you'd be happy to see me, since I was going to tell you all about that attack on the Chinese tart."

Ky's eyes widened with uncertainty. Not only did Sol know about the attack, but he also knew that Ky was on the case. Although he wasn't surprised by Sol's uncanny amount of knowledge, his cockiness still irked Ky.

"What do you know? Tell me!"

Sol clicked his tongue and shook his head in disappointment. "You're going to hurt my feelings if you treat me like that. Fine. I'll tell you, but first you better call off your dog. We wouldn't want any...collateral damage if there were misunderstandings." His hand shifted from the boy's head to the shoulder, a thumb looped nonchalantly around the child's neck. Sol tightened his grip just enough that Ky could see the implied threat.

Ky's eyes narrowed and his hand instinctively went to his cloak, where he kept Thunderseal. Sol's eyes, glinting red in the sunlight, bored into Ky so that the younger man could almost see the other's thoughts. Sol Badguy did not care about this city or these children, but Ky did and Ky had a responsibility to protect the innocent. Which meant Sol was in control, at least for now.

Ky let out a frustrated sigh but lowered his arm to his side. He clenched his fists in helpless fury, and glanced around behind him. Cobb was slowly reaching for the gun in his shoulder holster. Ky met his eyes and gave a tiny shake of his head, and Cobb looked between his commander and Sol before he too lowered his arm. As much as it frustrated both policemen, Sol Badguy was calling the shots.

Ky looked down at the children, forcing a casual smile on his face. "As I said, everyone, I'm really busy now, but you can go play with Tyler Cobb over there." He pointed to his subordinate. "He's also pretty new to this city and would like it if you could show him around. He'll buy you all ice cream at Madame Mahler's sweet shop."

Still sighing, the children abandoned Ky with reluctance, but moved to the other officer. Cobb's mouth had tightened into a thin line and though he wasn't happy with Ky's decision, he would still obey. He ushered the kids away from the two men and only spared his superior a brief, uncertain glance before taking the children down the block and out of sight.

Ky allowed himself to breathe more easily, but knew the city was far from safe as long as Sol was here. He could not afford to lower his guard, and returned his attention to the man before him. The other continued to smirk as if Ky were a bratty child, his eyes heavy-lidded and overshadowed by his headband.

Ky glared, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "Well?"

"You want me to shout it out in the streets? We'll go somewhere else. Somewhere quiet." This was no polite request, and Sol jerked his head, indicating Ky should follow him. He turned without a word and began walking, not even glancing back to see if Ky was following as he walked off the main boulevard to the less-traveled side streets.

His arrogance set the detective's teeth on edge the same way it did back in their days as Crusaders. Ky wanted to draw his sword, walk away, scream. Anything but follow the other's orders without protest. But he didn't have a choice, and Sol knew it. Ky could only grind his teeth in frustration and wait for the right moment.

_Damn him_. Ky thought, as he hurried after the other. _One day..._

Sol walked at a fast pace, forcing Ky, with his shorter legs, to move even faster. Ky struggled to keep up without jogging as the older man led him through winding backstreets as if he'd lived in this city his entire life. The city's sprawling layout still confused Ky in certain parts, and he might of admired Sol's navigational skills if the other weren't an insufferably smug egoist. As it was, Ky glared at the other's back, remaining always a few steps behind. If he did see Sol's undoubtedly smirking face, he didn't think he could hold back.

The walk was long and as it continued, Ky became thoroughly turned around, until he had only a vague idea of where they were. At last Sol turned onto a final bumpy alleyway that came to an abrupt dead end. Ky felt the hairs on his neck rise in suspicion and couldn't help hesitating. Sol on the other hand strode to the very end of the alley and leaned against the wall, waiting for Ky to catch up. Ky steeled himself and forced his legs to take the last few steps, all the while inwardly cursing Sol.

He stopped a few paces from Sol and crossed his arms. "Well?"

Sol let out a big yawn that gave Ky the impression of a large cat. His eyes, now yellow in the dim light, only reinforced this.

"They're robots, you know."

Ky blinked, not understanding. "They're robots? The attackers?"

Sol rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Yeah, fucking robots. Like the goddamn tin man and shit. But I figured you already knew that part."

Ky looked down at the ground, feeling an irrational wave of shame at Sol's mocking contempt. Part of him still wanted to live up to Sol's expectations, and he hated that feeling just as he hated how one look from Sol could make him feel so inadequate. Sol didn't have the right to so much power over him and it only increased Ky's anger and confusion.

He squeezed his eyes shut to clear his mind. Now was not the time for such concerns. Now he had to concentrate on this new information and how it would affect the case. The attackers were robots.

It wasn't surprising now that he thought about it. That explained why Jam Kuradoberi's powerful attacks were so ineffective as well as the strange noises she had heard. But an army of robots...what organization was capable of such technology? Some of the larger countries, such as Zepp or A-Country, but surely no underground organizations had access to such specialized equipment. Especially when the robots had moves that resembled his own.

Ky's head shot up and he looked with sudden understanding into Sol's eyes. "These robots...they must be programmed to execute certain fighting techniques. What sort of moves do they use?"

Sol pushed himself off the wall and took a step toward Ky. His grin widened, revealing longer-than-normal canines. "Ah, now we're getting somewhere." He turned away, deliberately showing the younger man his back, and cracked his neck. "Seems that during the Knight's Tournament, someone was collecting data on all the fighters. You'd think they'd get a lot of good shit, but for God knows what reason, they chose to focus on you."

The detective ignored the jab as he considered this remark. It didn't occur to him that Sol would lie. Sol had always been dodgy and enigmatic, but he never outright lied to Ky. Although their relationship had always been adversarial, even at its worst it maintained a strange stability that remained intact through all these years.

"So they must have found a way to imitate Thunderseal." Ky mused aloud.

Sol shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, they sting a bit, but nothing like a holy sword. Actually, these Robo-Kys are pretty fucking pathetic."

"Robo-Kys!"

Sol turned to face Ky. "Oh right. That's apparently their code name. Kinda catchy, I think." He glanced over Ky, examining him from head to foot, with eyes that missed nothing. Ky looked away in discomfort, suddenly recalling that the older man had a way of almost looking underneath his skin. Ignoring Ky's discomfort, Sol added, "Did a pretty decent job too. They even got yer nancy-boy hair cut."

Ky looked up with a fierce glare. His hand twitched, automatically wanting to smooth his hair, but Ky kept it at his side. His face flushed hot, adding to his annoyance. Sol may bait him, but he would not rise to it. At least not until he had all the information he needed.

"Who created them?"

"Some group calling themselves the Postwar Administration Bureau."

"I've never heard of it."

Sol gave him a strange look. His eyes were cold, almost inhuman, but there was something else in that bottomless gaze. Something Ky had never seen in Sol's eyes. On any other person, it might have been regret or pity. On Sol, it changed his appearance so drastically that he looked like an entirely different person. This thought sent a chill through Ky and disturbed him in a way that all of Sol's arrogance and cruelty could not.

Sol quirked his lips into an ironic but rueful smile. "You'd be surprised, kiddo. They can change their name, but they're still the same bastards they were during the Crusades."

"Wha...what do they want?"

The light shifted and the familiar expression of contempt returned to Sol's face. "What? Now you want me to do your fucking job? Go investigate and find some clues or whatever the hell you do these days."

Sol pulled out a well-worn pack of cigarettes and balanced one on his lower lip. He struck a match on the wall with a practiced flick, ignoring the other's presence. Ky knew he'd get no more information out of Sol and though he now had no reason to remain, he refused to leave after such an insulting dismissal.

Ky couldn't help rising to the bait as his temper flared. "I'm trying to preserve peace and justice, Sol. It's the same thing I've always done."

Sol looked up from his cigarette and seemed to consider Ky's words. "Peace and justice..." After a moment, he shook his head. "Nope. Those things don't go together."

Ky realized he couldn't control his growing anger. He knew he should stop talking and leave but the words spilled out. "So what should I do? Abandon everyone? Become a bounty hunter like you and fight only for myself?"

Ky's only warning was a dangerous flash in the other man's eyes. Before he could react, Sol was there in front of him, close enough that the detective could feel the other's heat. A fist slammed into the wall next to Ky's head. Ky managed to grab Thunderseal, but Sol's other hand darted out and a steel grip, painfully tight, closed around his sword hand.

Seemingly without effort, Sol pushed Ky back against the wall. Ky tried to shove the other man away but they were so close that he could do nothing but squirm ineffectively. Sol caught his wrist with a sharp tug, and the pain caused Ky to stop struggling, jerking him back to reality. Although he stopped moving, he regarded Sol with anger and proud defiance.

In turn the older man studied him with contempt, and Ky drew a ragged breath of rage. The moment seemed to drag on for a short eternity. Their eyes remained locked, neither allowing himself to look away first.

At last Sol muttered, "No need to sermonize, brat – it ain't Sunday."

He tightened his grip to emphasize his point, and the pain caused Ky to wince and drop his eyes. The anger passed and Ky at last saw his position with uncomfortable clarity. By fighting with Sol, he endangered all the lives of the people in this city. As much as Sol provoked him, he had to remain calm. He had to remain calm. Repeating this in his head, Ky tried to cool the heated emotions within him.

With effort he relaxed the muscles in his sword arm, and after a moment Sol's own grip eased but did not loosen completely. Sol let his other arm drop, and Ky withdrew his hand but made no attempt to move away from Sol. As maddening as the other's presence was, Ky would not let Sol push him around or reveal his discomfort.

As he looked at Sol, he felt a stab of something besides rage. Betrayal, perhaps, or sorrow. Although they had never been friends, they'd once been comrades. Ky wondered if Sol remembered at all.

Without thinking, Ky again spoke but this time his words were cold and lifeless. "Why are you here? Why? I never wanted you to come back, never. You never cared about me or the Order or Kliff, so why come back now?"

Ky turned away, breath short and tight. He couldn't stand Sol being this close to him, being here at all. He hated the way the other's presence clouded his mind and judgment. Hated the way the other made the world appear as shades of gray rather than black and white.

He felt hot breath on his ear, and his heart skipped. Ky remained frozen, too surprised to react.

Sol murmured, "You always were too naive. If you ever grow up, maybe I'll tell you."

Dry lips brush against his cheek and the large hand released his own. Sol took a step back then began to walk away without a backward glance. For a moment, Ky could not move. His feeling of shock had yet to wear off. The place where Sol's lips had touched his skin seemed to burn, spreading its heat across Ky's face. He raised a hand to the spot as if Sol had wounded him and this woke him from his daze.

"H...hey! Where are you going? Why'd you do that!" Ky mentally cursed his voice for cracking.

Sol paused and looked over his shoulder to give the younger man a mocking leer. "Do what? Guess I mistook you for a girl. My bad."

With a shrug he continued walking and disappeared around a corner. Ky almost ran after him but after a few steps he stopped. It was no use. He would not find the other man, and even if he did, what then? Yell at him? Attack him? Demand an apology?

The detective leaned against the wall for support and slid to the ground. No one was around, and he could allow himself a moment of weakness. Confrontations with Sol always left him drained, but soon enough his strength would return and he'd push thoughts of the other man to the back of his mind. Soon enough he would rise and rejoin Cobb and they would go back to working on the case.

He'd find Anji Mito and Baiken Seishino and perhaps shortly after that he would learn what the Postwar Administration Bureau was and what it wanted. And maybe along the way, he'd run into Sol again. And by then Sol wouldn't have the upper hand.

* * *

Baiken trudged up the stairs to her room, sake jugs in tow. She and Anji were staying in a little village with only one small convenience store that carried local produce. She ended up spending all day in Lyon, the closest city, searching for her precious alcohol. 

The discovery of hashish in addition to her sake made the trip worth it and when she returned to the inn at dusk, she felt more cheerful than she had in a long time. The Japanese Colony had always been oppressive. The shrines and sakura trees seemed so artificial and this artificiality only increased her awareness that this was not Japan. As far as she was concerned, Japan had ceased to exist that fateful day. Here in France, everything was much more real. Here she was at last free.

She reached well-worn door to her room but hesitated with the key halfway into the lock. On impulse she decided to offer Mito some of her sake. Although he had insisted they take separate rooms (blushingly referring to her "maidenly honor"), Baiken figured he wouldn't turn down free booze.

But when she came to his door, only one room down, the sound of low voices filtered into the hallway. Curiosity got the better of her and she pushed open the door without knocking. She didn't know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't Chipp perched on the edge of the bed looking down at something on the table in front of him. Anji sat in a chair across from him.

They both looked up in surprise. Anji half stood up with an elated cry of "Baiken!" that always made her feel a touch of regret. Chipp gave her a casual wave before returning his attention to the things on the table.

Baiken went into the room and set the jugs next to the TV. "I got some booze. It's pretty good shit." She looked more closely at the table, and saw a small travel-set chessboard laid out between the men. But there was no way Chipp would even want to play chess...

"What the hell are you doing?"

Chipp didn't look up but instead moved a piece, taking one of Anji's. "Playing chess."

Anji looked embarrassed, and let out his nervous laugh that meant he felt uncomfortable. "He just kinda showed up a while ago and I wasn't really doing anything and I still remember quite a bit about the game so I figured why not...and here we are."

Chipp gave him an impatient look, as he waited for Anji to make his move. Baiken stared at the ninja, still sitting cross-legged on the bed, until an important question popped into her head.

"Hey! How the hell did you find us?"

They'd left Japanese Colony as quietly as possible, without giving any indication of their plans. They decided to go to Lyon because it was near the location where Justice had been sealed and subsequently killed in the first Knight's tournament. Although this trail was now old, it was as good a place as any to start. In Baiken's long life, she'd learned that if you found a Gear, that man wouldn't be too far away. If Chipp had deduced all this, he was quite a bit smarter than he let on. That or he was as lucky as hell.

When Chipp realized Anji wasn't paying attention to their game, he turned away with reluctance. He looked up at Baiken and gave a casual shrug as if there was nothing impressive in finding the two missing Japanese where every major police agency and bounty hunter in the world had failed. "It wasn't too hard. Once I stopped looking for the two Japanese people and started asking about the 'pink-haired scary lady and the fruit with the fans,' I found you guys in no time.""

"'The fruit with the fans!'" Anji's voice cracked in indignation. "I'm a highly trained warrior and absolutely one-hundred percent straight, thank you very much! And I'll have you know that many people consider the fan dance the most masculine of the arts."

The ninja arched an eyebrow, and his flat stare bored into Anji. "Mito. You do a dance. With fans."

"Yes, but it's a manly dance!"

Baiken considered, then shrugged. "The punk's got a point, Mito."

Anji sputtered, a hurt look appearing on his face. "Baiken!" He whined, "And what about you? You're the 'pink-haired scary lady!'"

Baiken looked at the shaggy bangs that hung over her eyes. Now that she thought about it, they were very distinctly a shade of pink. Before she had never considered how strange this was but now it struck her as odd. But not half as odd as why no one had ever questioned why a one-eyed, one-armed, tough-as-nails warrior would have hair the color of bubblegum.

Or maybe they were just too busy getting stabbed to bring it up in conversation.

"'Scary lady,' huh? I like that." Baiken smirked in satisfaction. She gave Chipp another look. "Well anyway, kid, since you're here, you wanna spar? There's a good place out back where we can practice."

"Naw, maybe later."

Anji and Baiken exchanged looks. Chipp was always pestering Baiken to train with him. Most of the time she flat-out refused but on the occasions she did accept, he latched onto her like an eager puppy and insisted they go until he either couldn't move or passed out. That he would turn down an offer seemed impossible.

"What?"

"I mean, we're in the middle of a game, and Master Tsuyoshi told me never to leave things half-finished." Anji and Baiken exchanged another look as Chipp continued. "And speaking of...hey, Mito! It's your turn, so you better hurry up!"

Anji seemed to waver, torn between paying attention to Baiken and stopping his friend's whining. The need to shut Chipp up won out, and after a brief apologetic look toward Baiken, he took his seat and began reexamining the board.

Baiken shrugged and took a swig of her sake. It was better warm, but any alcohol was better than no alcohol. "Whatever. I'll be back in the woods if you change your mind."

She left the room, and did not have to turn around to know that Anji's eyes were on her back. He was so damn predictable. She didn't bother returning to her room, since she was never unarmed. Instead Baiken went out of the building and a little ways into the forest next to it. Training was well and good but not if it drew unwanted attention.

She went through a few easy katas to warm up. The movements came as naturally as breathing, and she never once faltered or lost her balance. It had been so long, she no longer missed her arm or eye. She had almost forgotten what they felt like. Only in dreams did she have the use of both, and then she was always so tightly bound in chains that she couldn't move.

She shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet. When she moved onto the more difficult moves, she wished Chipp had taken her up on the offer. She was naturally a defensive fighter and a partner made practicing much easier. Anji disliked fighting her and only participated when she insisted. Even then he held back and avoided any powerful attacks, much to her annoyance. Chipp on the other hand didn't know how to hold back.

Her thoughts drifted and became lost in the movements. There was only the blade, the wind and a cold fury in her chest that never quite faded. Fighting was the closest she came to peace, and even then she could remember that man's face as clear as on the day she'd first seen him. That day the world had burst into flame and never stopped hurting.

The blade hummed through the air and although she wasn't conscious of the footsteps, Baiken whipped around and the blade cut through darkness. She froze, arm straight out, with the sword pointed at somebody. Blinking she came back to reality and realized it was Anji. He regarded her without fear despite the blade a hairsbreadth from his throat.

She scowled, unsure whether she was more upset at how close she came to killing him or the interruption of her drills. "Ch', if you're not here to fight, then go away. Next time I won't stop."

Anji smiled his happy grin that made him look like such an idiot. "I knew you wouldn't hit me."

Baiken lowered the blade and sheathed it in one practiced motion. "Hn. Where's the kid?"

"He's asleep in my room." Anji rolled his eyes but smiled. "He kept on insisting we play one more game. After a couple hours, he just passed out on my bed. I figured it was easier to leave him there."

Baiken repressed her own smile. "Yeah, that's the punk for you." It occurred to her that she must have lost track of time during her training if it had already been a couple hours. She regarded her companion. "So you want to crash in my room or something?"

Anji blushed then stammered, "N-no! I'm a man of the highest principles!" He gave her a timid look. "I figured we could enjoy this lovely night together."

Baiken felt her heart harden at his soft words and she turned away, unable to face his gentle and devoted expression. She knew what was coming next – it happened every now and then when Anji needed to get it out of his system.

"Baiken-san, you know that I'm not coming with you just to find that man..."

"What? Then you came because you like French wine?"

"Don't do that!" Anji snapped in irritation. The moment passed and he continued in a subdued voice. "You know why. You know that I want to protect you."

She gave him a cold look that told him he'd overstepped his place. "Bullshit. I've been taking care of myself since I saw my family get hacked to pieces by Gears. I can damn well protect myself and you know it. Stop fucking kidding yourself."

"And who can protect you from yourself?"

Baiken felt her irritation turn into coldness. "Is that what this is about? You want me to give up looking for that man? You want me to forget the past and move on with my life?" Anji said nothing, but his silence told her everything she needed to know. "It ain't that easy, Mito. Sometimes I think the only reason I'm still alive is so that I can kill him. All the love in the world can't change that."

His look of despair tore at her heart, and she suddenly remembered why she always hesitated to travel with him. He was a liability, a weakness she could not afford. Her anger faded and the ice within her melted, but that only made it worse.

She turned away and began walking back toward the inn. He did not follow. She stopped on the edge of the tree line and looked at him from the corner of her good eye.

"Look, Anji. Things are probably going to get rough from here on out. If you got any doubts, they're going to get in my way. I'll never forgive you if you get in my way."

Anji's face was obscured by the darkness, but she thought she saw a sad smile. "I won't get in your way, but I won't let you go either."

Although she had been expecting that answer, Baiken could still not respond. She paused for an instant before walking away without a word, leaving Anji alone in the darkness.


	5. A Highway that is Practically Endless

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari

* * *

**Chapter 5: A Highway that is Practically Endless**

Venom blinked when Chipp moved his bishop into a position that he hadn't considered. His own rook was now trapped, and would be lost within two moves, leaving the left flank open to attack. It was a clever move that crippled his defenses, and Venom only recognized the trap too late – he had not expected this of his opponent.

A quick glance revealed Chipp was just as impressed with the move, and although the ninja tried to maintain a blank face, a smirk tugged at his lips and he fidgeted in impatience for Venom to make his move.

Although it was a good move, all was not lost for white. Venom returned his attention to the game, and his chill eyes swept across the board. He would leave his rook for dead, and although it irked him to lose such a valuable piece, Venom made the decision without regret or hesitation. Instead he focused his attention on an offensive attack. By destroying the other's defenses piece by piece, he would force back Chipp's own assault.

Venom did a quick mental calculation and from years of experience, knew that the game could still be his. And yet he could not deny that the ninja had improved in the few weeks he'd been away. Venom was genuinely impressed with his playing, especially since he hadn't expected the other to show any aptitude for the mental game.

"You've become quite good." Venom remarked. He tried to keep his voice neutral, but couldn't quite hide his approval.

Chipp heard it as well and broke into a self-confident smile. He was young enough that smugness still suited him, and he beamed like a puppy receiving praise. After this initial excitement, Chipp tried to put on an air of indifference and mostly failed.

"Whatever. Now that I know what chess is all about, it ain't so bad."

"Oh?"

"I get why Master Tsuyoshi liked it so much. I thought it was just a stupid game, but he knew that it's just like ninjitsu. You've got to train hard, but it's not just about strength and speed. You hafta understand the world and see things clearly.

"'To be a ninja, you must know both yourself and your opponent.' That's what Master always said. If you can look into your opponents, you can always defeat them, no matter how strong they are."

Venom couldn't help an amused and faintly contemptuous smile. "And you think you will beat me? Because you understand me?"

Chipp frowned and unconsciously picked up a black pawn, which was in a tenuous position. Venom could take it at any time, but he was waiting for the right moment to begin his assault. Although the ninja surely knew this, he had given it up for lost. Now his attention seemed focused on the little piece as he tapped the pawn on the board, his words distant and preoccupied.

"I dunno. I mean...maybe not this time. I'm not as good as my master, and this game makes my head hurt if I think about it too much. But..."

He trailed off as his eyes met Venom's through the veil of hair. For a moment, Chipp seemed to be looking for something in Venom, but unable to find it, returned his attention to the board and the pieces scattered across the checkered marble. Chipp replaced the pawn in its original spot. Instead of moving his queen in position to take Venom's rook, he moved his one remaining knight to guard that lonely pawn.

As he rested one arm on the table, Chipp looked up with a cocky smile and at last said, "But I do understand you, so maybe one day, I will."

The words were a challenge, spoken with the usual confidence Chipp had when approaching everything in life. He always began his battles believing he would win and any number of defeats would not persuade him otherwise. In the same way he had always believed he would become president. In the same way he had always sought after impossible dreams. This was how Chipp saw the world, and Venom found himself smiling at the other's naiveté.

"And how is it that you understand me so well?"

"Oh, that's easy. You're just like me." When Venom snorted in disbelief, Chipp added, "No, seriously! I mean, sure you use a stupid weapon and dress funny, but I'm talking about the important things."

Chipp didn't seem to notice the softly dangerous edge to Venom's next words. "And what things are those?"

"I don't know. Lots of things. Like how you hate yourself."

Venom jerked back as if the words had been a physical blow. He glanced sharply at the other, but his face remained completely sincere and guileless. The assassin knew that Chipp said the words without malice but they nevertheless cut into him.

Venom was completely still except for the beating of his heart, which had become painfully loud to his own ears. It made his chest ache and seemed so loud that surely even Chipp could hear that sound in the night's stillness. But the ninja seemed preoccupied with his personal thoughts and didn't spare Venom another glance. His face had become lost in the shadows and his expression obscured.

"What do you mean?" Venom asked reluctantly but unable to stop himself.

Chipp continued to look at the board as he sunk into a more somber mood. His words had become hesitant and soft, and Venom realized he was hearing something unspoken until now.

"I used to do drugs, you know. They felt really good, and I told myself that I only did them because everything else was shit and otherwise I didn't feel at all. But that wasn't true. I did feel without the drugs – I just hated everything I felt. I couldn't stand myself, and drugs helped me to forget who I was."

Chipp's voice had become hesitating and uncertain, and the soft moonlight made him look unusually young and vulnerable. He seemed a different person from that brash ninja who wanted to be president, who demanded to play chess, who believed in his own strength.

He seemed everything that Chipp was not, and this sudden change unnerved Venom. He wished Chipp would stop speaking and go back to his usual self, his inner demons locked deep within him. He wanted to remind Chipp that they were not friends and it was stupid to open up to a cold-blooded assassin. He wanted to tell Chipp that he didn't care.

But he couldn't, because he realized that was a lie. All his life, Venom had craved friendship and an end to his loneliness, but such things were forbidden to assassins. He'd nearly lost his life because of that, but Zato had saved him. Zato had understood him and in Lord Zato he found love and tenderness.

Yet he had just been Zato's servant, and his master always maintained a certain distance. He had the ability to look into Venom's heart, but was unwilling to open his own. Only that woman had come close to getting past this barrier, but she had not loved him and in the end had betrayed him. The thought of this betrayal still burned Venom, and he hated Millia even as he envied her.

Zato and Millia were always distant and unreachable, even when they'd been close to Venom. Chipp on the other hand...

Chipp was barely an acquaintance; he was a not-friend. And yet he was placing his trust in Venom. Venom should have been happy that someone could trust him but instead he felt uncertainty. It made him go cold with fear.

Chipp was speaking more to himself than Venom now. Venom knew that dreamy expression from personal experience, and realized it didn't matter at all to Chipp whether or not he was listening.

He continued, "But I wasn't an idiot. I knew they were killing me. And not just on the outside – little by little I felt myself dissolving into nothing on the inside. I hated what drugs did to me, and I hated myself even more for using them. So I kept using them.

"And every time I took something, every time I bought some shitty scag on the street, I hoped that this hit would be bad and I'd end up dead or in a coma. I figured death had to be better than this. Anything to make it stop. But I was too fucking scared to do shit about it, so I kept on hoping and kept on doing drugs.

"And then I...and then, once I called my folks. I don't know why. I guess I wanted somebody to care about me and I figured, you know, they're my parents. They hafta care, right? But my ma picked up the phone, and she said...she said she didn't have no son named Chipp. Said he died two years ago when he ran away.

"And then she hung up."

Chipp's voice had become strained and his eyes were locked on the chessboard as if it were a lifeline. A shudder ran through his face, making his lower jaw tremble. He seemed almost in pain but his face remained hard.

It took him a few moments to master his emotions but at last Chipp looked up with a careless grin that didn't reach his eyes.

"Not that I care now. I was a bad kid, and she had every right to hate me. Master Tsuyoshi taught me that you can't ask for the respect of others if you don't respect yourself. When he found me, he taught me that. And that was when I realized I wanted Master to respect me..."

Chipp fell silent, and looked away, unable to meet Venom's eyes. For Venom the silence was oppressive, and he shifted in his seat but could not say anything. He had never known his biological parents, but he'd always craved the bonds of family. Part of him felt for Chipp and the other wished Chipp had never placed this burden upon him.

He listened to the distant tick of the clock and the sound of wind on the windowpanes, not waiting for something, but unable to act. This stillness stretched on for a few minutes as Venom tried to compose his racing thoughts. Everything was wrong and there was nothing to say. His tongue seemed heavy and thick.

When he found his voice at last, he could only murmur, "But you are wrong. I don't hate myself."

The ninja looked up and blinked as if just now realizing Venom sat across from him and had heard everything he'd said. He frowned and squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable with his recent confession. "Well, maybe not...but you do want to die."

With these words, Venom felt his confusion and uncertainty resolve into irritation. His head snapped up and he glared at Chipp, choking out, "That's not true! I want to live, for Zato's memory and for the Guild!"

Chipp shook his head. "The first time we fought and I won, you wanted me to kill you. I know people say that all the time when they lose, trying to be brave and shit, but with you...you really did want to die. That's why I couldn't kill you. Because...because I know what it's like always to be running away. To figure that death is better than living with all this shit."

Venom glared, and felt his anger at Chipp growing. As if he knew anything about Venom's thoughts or feelings. As if he knew anything at all.

"Watch your tongue, boy. I have never run from anything in my life."

The ninja's eyes flashed with fury that mirrored Venom's, and he rose slightly from his seat. "I'm no kid! If you're not running, then why are you so afraid? Why do you hide from everyone? Think I'm too stupid to see? You hide behind your Guild, behind your precious Lord Zato. Hell, you hide behind your fucking hair! Why don't you let people see you?"

Chipp reached his hand across the table and brushed aside some of the bangs that covered Venom's face. Without thinking, Venom's hand snapped out, and he grabbed Chipp's wrist. The hair fell back into place, but not before he met the younger man's eyes with a dangerous look. The ninja responded with his own challenging stare, but he did not try to pull away or twist out of Venom's grip.

Neither man moved – Chipp waiting for Venom and Venom trying to compose himself. He could only regard the other through narrowed eyes as he suppressed the rage that was always boiling just under his controlled exterior. Chipp looked so young and defiant, and it suddenly occurred to him how different Chipp was from Lord Zato.

While this child was full of hot-headed arrogance, Zato was cold self-assurance. Chipp's eyes were a fiery red, candid and open, while the Guild leader's gaze had been an enigmatic blue, unflappable and mysterious. He never flushed with emotion, whether in anger or in joy but always remained at peace, a small quirk of a smile on his thin lips. Chipp's lips were full of life, always grinning or frowning as if unable to keep inside his emotions. He overflowed with vitality.

Venom realized Chipp's expression had changed. The anger had dissipated, replaced with a strange and unreadable expression. He seemed expectant, waiting for Venom to act or speak, but Venom remained frozen. He averted his eyes, and felt a sudden flush of guilt for even comparing Chipp to Zato. They were as different as two men could be, both in face and temperament. It was foolish to look for even the tiniest bit of Zato in the other man, and it was disrespectful to Lord Zato's memory to hope to find something.

Venom realized he still held Chipp's hand in his grip. With a start, he noticed that he could feel the quick pulse of the other's heart through the veins in his wrist. He released it and felt his face flush like a guilty child's. His hair hid this from Chipp, who lowered his arm with slow purpose. He continued to look at Venom with that same intent expression that so unnerved the assassin.

Venom opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what he wished to say. When he at last spoke, the words came out of their own accord. They sounded cold and harsh, even to Venom's ears.

"Please do not touch me again."

Chipp withdrew his arm as something flickered across his face, too fast to be read. Anger, perhaps. Or hurt. He stood up and looked at Venom with hooded eyes. He hesitated, but Venom kept his gaze fixed on the chessboard and after a moment Chipp turned away.

"Ch'." Chipp shrugged, his face carefully neutral, and their eyes met only for an instant before Chipp vanished.

Venom continued to look at the table. Part of him wanted to call out to Chipp, but he knew it was a meaningless gesture and too late. He had no time for useless feelings of regret. Tiredness crept through his limbs and caused his frame to slump imperceptively against the table. He didn't have the energy to rise and retire to his chambers. He could only sit and half-study the board as he waited for...something.

As he glanced over the chess pieces, he realized Chipp had been in a position to reach check in three moves and perhaps checkmate in a few more. He wondered if he would have avoided the trap in time and if Chipp had even noticed his advantage. Venom knocked over his pale king with a flick of his fingers, and as it fell, it crashed into a knight, which also toppled over, leaving the board in disarray.

Venom got up and left the library. His feet unconsciously took him down to the gardens, where Lord Zato had cultivated a great variety of flowers that flourished under his expert care. Zato loved all of the plants, and always wished to understand something he called their secret language. Never had Venom seen such tenderness on the other man's face as when he handled the delicate blossoms, and never had Venom felt such love for him as in those moments.

Since Zato's disappearance, Venom maintained the garden just as his master had done, and while he never sought to understand the blossoms' silent words, the garden was a constant reminder of Lord Zato. In it, Venom could feel the other's presence, and this brought a sort of bitter peace. It was his habit to start every morning here in its cold solitude. With the quiet of the dawn, he could almost hear his master's voice again.

Now in the starlight, the flowers looked tired and dead. The blossoms drooped under the weight of the morning dew and they seemed to regard Venom with weary contempt. He stood in their midst trying to see what Zato had seen and hear what he had heard, but all was unmoving and silent. The flowers had nothing to say to him. He did not notice the chill breeze that blew through his thin garments, numbing his fingers and face and sending shivers down his spine. He did not notice that the sky was becoming light and dawn was approaching.

Venom stood unmoving until Clyne came and stood a respectful distance away from him. He waited for Venom to turn before he spoke in a low voice, reminding Venom to distribute the current list of assignments. He withdrew with a respectful bow. Venom knew he must have said something to Clyne but did not have the energy to recall his words.

When it was well into the morning, Venom again looked around the lush greenery. The flowers had brightened in the soft sunlight, but they remained unspeaking. The gardens had not provided their usual solace, but neither had they reminded him of Zato-One. Venom could not say which of these disturbed him more.

He turned away and went back to attend his duties.

* * *

When Anji woke up that morning, he knew Baiken was gone. He wasn't so naive as to believe they had some unspoken bond that let him know where she was and what she was doing, but all the same he knew. It was just one of those things. 

He rose as always, did his morning exercises and put on a light robe. When he knocked on Baiken's door with a tentative tap, he called out as he always did.

"Baiken-san? Baiken?"

He was not surprised by the lack of response, but he still felt his heart sink and let his arm drop to his side. He returned to his room. Once he'd brushed his teeth and showered, he packed up the few items he had brought with him. He slung the pack over his shoulder but as he moved toward the door, his steps seemed to get heavier. After a moment of indecisiveness, he slumped and dropped the bag back onto his bed.

To make their movements less traceable, Anji and Baiken changed hotels every week, and they had planned to stay here for two more nights before continuing. Although he had no reason to stay any longer, the thought of checking out depressed him. It would be like admitting Baiken wasn't coming back and that he was going to be alone for the rest of the journey. He'd grown accustomed to the other's taciturn companionship and as much as he hated to admit it, Anji had lost his former preference for traveling alone.

He couldn't help a self-mocking smile as he absently gazed out the window. Baiken was long gone by now and his imagination drifted to if and when they'd met up again. Maybe next time she wouldn't leave him. Maybe next time there would be something more than pained regret in her eyes when he looked at her with love.

They'd come to Frankfurt, a city almost completely destroyed during the Crusades. The war had been unkind to this region, and the city had further deteriorated when the Gears captured it, making it one of their strongholds. Only when Justice had been sealed away did humans reclaim the area.

Despite this, people had already rebuilt a great portion of Frankfurt over these last few years, doing their best to reconstruct the city's former grandeur. Although Anji marveled at the determination of the city's inhabitants, it meant that most traces of the Gears and the war had been erased.

The rubble was gone, along with the Gear-built barracks and weapons, replaced with old-fashioned skyscrapers and even more old-fashioned homes and taverns. The people seemed reluctant to remember the war. When asked about the Gears, they grew pale and looked away, refusing to speak. The wounds were still too fresh.

Getting information from the city's inhabitants was almost impossible and the records were incomplete because of the destruction during the war and the chaos that followed. Their trail had grown cold in this city, and Baiken had grown irritable. She wanted to go to Japan, where the Gears first began their assault on humanity and where that man had first revealed his power.

Anji had argued that there was nothing left in Japan and the security that quarantined it from the rest of the world was too tight. He wanted to continue on to A-Country. Although the country had remained mostly untouched by the Crusades, several rumors said that one of the chief scientists on the Gear project came from that country, and probably the first experiments with Gears had begun there as well.

Anji had known something was wrong when Baiken dropped the argument without a fight. She shrugged her shoulders and gave a noncommittal grunt. When Anji tried to explain his reasoning further, she snapped at him to drop the subject and went to her room to drink. That had happened last night and Anji had gone to sleep with nervous foreboding.

Now it was well into the morning, and Anji knew he had to make his decision soon. He sighed, realizing the inevitable and hurried down the steps to the first floor. A warm overcoat hid his Japanese garb, and he'd tucked his zessen next to his body, in easy reach. He looked like a foreigner, but there were enough tourists, curious about the war and the Gears, that he attracted no extra interest or suspicion.

Passing through the lobby, he thought he caught a flash of pink hair and instinctively turned his head. Still in mid-step, he crashed into someone just entering the building. The other man's smaller frame bounced off him and stumbled back. Anji blushed, feeling even more like an idiot and annoyed at the curious looks he'd drawn.

"Entschuldigen!" He muttered, averting his eyes in chagrin and preparing to hurry off. A hand caught his sleeve and prevented his escape.

"Watch where you're goin', asshole! I oughta –"

At the familiar voice, Anji's eyes widened and he peered more closely at the other's face.

"Chipp?" He interrupted.

Chipp looked up in surprise and dropped Anji's arm. His anger vanished, and he did a double take.

"Mito?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Me? I'm looking for you."

Chipp had replaced his beloved ninja garb in favor of a low-key brown jacket, the wool collar coming up to his chin. He still wore his favorite red scarf, but his white hair was now covered by a dark beanie, and he had sunglasses hiding his albino's eyes. Although strands of white hair poked from under the cap, at first glance, Anji had not recognized the other man.

Anji should have expected this. He'd told Chipp during their time together in Lyon that he and Baiken would probably head toward Frankfurt. At the time he hadn't expected the ninja to come, and he was pleased to see him. Chipp was pleasant company in his own loud-mouthed way, and at the moment Anji appreciated any friendly face.

Anji grinned as he clapped Chipp on the back. He asked, not quite able to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice, "What have you been up to? It's been almost a month since I last saw you!"

A shadow passed across the other's face, and Chipp became gloomy. He readjusted the cap on his head, pulling it lower across his brow. He breathed out a sigh.

"Nothin'. I ain't done nothin'." Chipp looked up, his eyes not quite meeting Anji's, before scanning the room. He clearly wished to change the subject. "So Baiken's still up in the room?"

It was Anji's turn to fall silent. He put his hand back on Chipp's shoulder and allowed himself to slump a little.

"Let's go for a walk."

Although Anji felt better once in the crisp autumn air, the gray crowded streets felt oppressive. They walked in silence.

When they turned around the block, Chipp at last spoke without any surprise. "So she's gone."

Anji's eyes were fixed on the pavement in front of him, but he could feel Chipp's eyes on him. While Chipp was not cruel, neither was he particularly sympathetic. His look undoubtedly said, "Sorry, Mito, but we both knew it was going to happen."

And they both had known, hadn't they?

He looked up and was surprised to see no knowing smugness or pity in the other's gaze. Instead Chipp seemed distant, a slight frown on his lips as he considered the consequences of Baiken's departure.

"You know where she went?"

Anji shrugged, too tired to speak above a low mutter. "Who knows? Maybe Japan? I wanted to go to A-Country so that's the one place we can probably rule out."

For a while, they were both silent. Chipp shoved his hands in his pockets and once again seemed lost in his own thoughts. He seemed content to follow Anji despite the other's aimless meandering through the city. Anji always went toward the river because it was the one landmark he could easily locate. Now they walked past the newly built shops and fresh houses, the barren lots and half-fallen churches, and came to the cloudy waters of the Main River.

Anji walked along one of the few original stone bridges, and abruptly realized Chipp was no longer by his side. When he turned around, he saw the other man leaning on the railing and staring into the murky waters. After a moment's hesitation, Anji joined him at the side and mimicked his stance, slumping his shoulders and resting both elbows on the old stone. Chipp was watching a line of ducks pass under the bridge.

"So what're you going to do?"

Anji blinked. "Huh?"

"What're you going to do? Are you gonna go to A-Country to look for that man or to wherever the hell that old cyclops is headed?"

Anji gave the ninja a sidelong glance at his nickname for Baiken. It was something Chipp called her only when he was certain she wasn't around. But he had a point. Until now, being with Baiken and finding that man had been one and the same. He never considered that he couldn't have both. Anji had to make a choice – to follow the woman he loved or continue his life's dream of finding that man.

"I...I guess I haven't really thought about it." He stared into the sluggish water. The ducks were circling beneath, waiting for Anji and Chipp to feed them. Anji couldn't help an amused half-smile at their greed.

"I think I'll go to A-Country; I've always wanted to see it. You know that they have a road that goes from one end of the country to the other? And in a place as big as A-Country, it must be practically endless. It was somewhat damaged during the Crusades, but I've heard they've already repaired it. You know, that will be the first road I'll have ever followed from beginning to end."

Chipp rolled his eyes. "Tourist."

Anji let his smile grow wider, so that he could believe the ache in his heart was subsiding. "What about you, Chipp? You can come with me. You can show me the sites. A-Country's your home, right?"

"Only 'cuz I wasn't born in Japan!"

"And you've never wanted to see that man? He caused the war, you know. All this pain and suffering in the world is because of him. You've never wondered why he's done all that he's done, or what he's planning?"

"Nope. Never," Chipp said with pride.

Anji dropped his head with a sigh. "You shouldn't be proud of your ignorance," he muttered. He continued in a louder voice, "It's good to see you, Chipp, but I have to pack and get tickets. I'm leaving as soon as possible."

Anji began to walk back toward the inn. He was almost off of the bridge when he heard Chipp's voice. "Wait!"

Anji turned and came face to face with Chipp. He'd forgotten how fast the other could move.

"What's the hurry? That man ain't goin' anywhere."

"Actually, he's always on the move, which makes it difficult to –"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Look, we should at least have a drink together before you go. In honor of Baiken, or something."

Anji frowned. Although he enjoyed the occasional drink, he never understood Baiken's love of alcohol. But it was only appropriate to send her off with a last farewell toast. That she wasn't here to enjoy it was beside the point.

"Okay, but just one."

* * *

When Chipp woke up, it was approaching dawn. It took a moment to get his bearings. It took a while longer than a moment to stop the world's spinning. When he felt sufficiently capable of standing, he threw aside Anji's arm, which was smashed against the side of his face and tottered to his feet. Anji remained dead to the world.

Chipp studied the empty bottles scattered across the room. He couldn't remember the exact time they'd decided to continue their drinking in Anji's room, but it couldn't have been past 4 o' clock. In the afternoon.

The ninja winced, partly from his headache and partly from guilt. He really had intended to have only one drink, but he also should have known better. He whispered a soft apology to his master before making his way across the room.

It took all his mental power to not slip on any of the stray bottles, but he managed at last to retrieve his shirt and boots. He succeeded with the shirt, but after the fifth try at tying his laces, he gave up and padded barefoot into the bathroom.

He flipped on the florescent light, normally bright to his sensitive eyes but now almost unbearable. Chipp flinched but did not turn it off, forcing his eyes to adjust despite the pain. When the sharp white spots disappeared and he could again see, he stumbled to the sink and tried to rinse the sour stickiness from his mouth.

It still seemed coated in layers and layers of cheap booze even after several tries, and at last he tore open Anji's complimentary sample of mouthwash. He downed the entire thing and gurgled thoroughly. When he at last spat out the brilliant blue liquid, his mouth tasted of minty freshness and cheap booze rather than just cheap booze. It wasn't much of an improvement.

Chipp gave up with a sigh of disgust and looked into the mirror. His eyes were redder than usual and dark bruise-like bags, a stark contrast to his almost translucent skin, had formed under them. This combined with his pale lips and mess of white hair gave him a half-dead look.

"Dumb shit."

He gave his reflection an angry glare, before leaving the little bathroom and reentering the muted half-dark of the main room. Anji was still passed out on the floor where Chipp had left him, and the ninja ignored him as he retrieved his arm blade and gloves, which had been tossed in a corner along with Anji's zessen. Chipp instinctively looked around with a guilty look as he imagined what his master would have said about such careless behavior.

The ninja ran his hand along the blade, feeling the slight imperfections in the metal that he knew as well as his own skin. What would Master Tsuyoshi have said? Probably nothing – just give him that level gaze that expressed his disappointment so well.

Master Tsuyoshi had never yelled and hardly ever had raised his voice. He commanded not so much with words, but with cold strength and level-headedness. The thought of his cool level-headedness reminded Chipp of someone else. He thought about the cold blue of Venom's eyes, distant and kind at the same time.

Venom shared those qualities with Master Tsuyoshi, and they were what drew Chipp to him despite all logic that said he should stay away. In some ways, Venom was as much like his master as he was like Chipp. He had Tsuyoshi's calm but Chipp's anger. He had Chipp's pain but Tsuyoshi's gentleness.

Chipp opened the window shade to let in the morning light. The sun had not risen, but the stars were invisible from within the city. Chipp wondered if Venom was awake.

He had no desire to play chess or read books. He had no desire to visit the Assassin's Guild Library and the thought of seeing Venom again turned his stomach. But he couldn't stay here and he couldn't go back to A-Country with Anji. He'd known that even before he knew Anji would ask him to stay. There was too much baggage in A-Country for Chipp and he wasn't up to babysitting Anji. Maybe he'd disappear into the woods for a while. He'd grown weak with all that studying and needed to become strong again.

He turned from the window and moved toward the door, shoes in hand. He'd work on wearing those later. As he reached for the handle, Anji's voice caused him to stop.

"So you're leaving too?"

Chipp half-turned to regard him. Anji had misplaced his glasses and his hair was even more mussed than usual. The alcohol was still affecting him and he swayed a little, resting on one elbow. His eyes looked hurt and Chipp felt a pang of guilt, but he could no more stay than Baiken could have. Still, Mito deserved better than this.

"Hey, Anji," Chipp began, "don't worry too much, 'kay? And don't be too sad that Baiken left. Here's the thing, bro, no matter what she'll always come back to you.

"She says she don't care about nothing except revenge, but that ain't true. She does love you. She loves you because you're all she has. She'll always come back because she has nowhere else to go. See?"

"Huh?" Anji had his head between his hands, preoccupied with the effects of the alcohol. "Sorry, Chipp, but it's really hard to think right now. The world won't stop turning."

Chipp smiled, mentally thanking his body for its high tolerance and amused at Anji's lack of experience.

"'S cool." He turned the door's handle and added. "And drink a glass of beer – that makes hangovers go away." He opened the door and paused yet again. "Oh, and when you find that crazy bitch, tell her I said hello."

The door closed with a quiet clink and Anji was left alone in the room, struggling toward the bathroom and too focused on his nausea to think about ninjas or one-armed warriors.


	6. Unpleasant Surprises

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari

**Chapter 6: Unpleasant Surprises**

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* * *

**

The room was unlit, but the light of the half moon through the windows made the walls and floor almost glow. Venom walked on the balls of his feet, silent as the death he brought with him. He knew the moonlight illuminated his hair and clothing, a contrast to the inky night around him, but he was skilled enough that it wouldn't effect his assignment.

He hated assignments. He hated the way his voice grew cold as he pronounced the other's death sentence, and he hated the way the target inevitably begged. Most of all he hated the blood. No matter how many times he bathed, no matter how many times he washed his cue balls, the smell of blood hung around for weeks.

But now was not the time for hesitation. He was here to kill for the sake of Zato's Guild. And for Lord Zato's sake, he would show no mercy to his target. The target was some low-life mafia boss – a petty little man whose ambition outstretched his power. Tonight he would pay for that ambition with his life.

His sources told him that the target worked late into the night, so Venom prepared himself for the kill as he pushed open the large double doors leading to the study. One glance took in everything he needed to know about his target and the room. The study was tidy and well kept. One of the large windows was open and gauzy curtains billowed in the night breeze.

His information had been correct – the target was here – but it seemed Venom was too late. The man lay slumped across his desk, a pool of blood staining the papers and knickknacks and turning the cherry wood a deeper shade of red.

Dead? But how?

"THE CORRECT RESPONSE IS 'THANK YOU', I BELIEVE."

The familiar voice came from a dark corner of the room, and Venom's head whipped around to face it. As his gaze pierced the darkness, he saw the shadow within a shadow – a patch of darkness that seemed to absorb the moonlight. Venom tightened his grip on the pool cue as the shadow coalesced into the shape of a man. Zato-One emerged, wisps of darkness trailing behind him.

Venom's heart skipped a beat as he came face to face with his former master. This hesitation never disappeared no matter how many times he encountered the other. A mocking smile twisted Zato's pale lips, and he looked over Venom through his blindfold. When he spoke, his mouth moved but it was another's voice.

"IT'S BEEN AWHILE, HASN'T IT?" A coy smile played on cold lips.

"You...you bastard!" Venom snarled.

The hesitation passed and he summoned a ball into the air before him. With a swing of his cue, it flew toward the other figure's head. Zato merely smirked, and a wall of blackness rose up from the ground. The ball smashed into the barrier and disintegrated.

"HOW VERY UNGRATEFUL. I CAME HERE, KILLING THAT PATHETIC LUMP OF A MAN, ALL IN THE HOPES OF SEEING YOU AGAIN. BUT WHAT DO YOU DO? I'VE...WE'VE MISSED YOU."

The shadow around Zato's body grew into a monstrous form, as much animal as human. Red eyes glowed in the darkness and black claws emerged to encircle Zato's pale neck, his head lolling against the demon.

Venom felt an uncontrollable shudder run through him. Eddie's red eyes regarded him with cruel amusement as Zato leaned into the embrace. A haze of fury filled Venom's eyes and mind, and before he realized that he had moved he was charging the demon, cue spinning in his hand.

This time the creature didn't try to block with his shadow powers. Instead Zato raised his arm so his hand shielded his face. A sickening crack echoed in Venom's ears as he brought his weapon down across it.

He froze when a look of pain blossomed on Zato's face. The older man grimaced and let out a sharp cry. For an instant he seemed alive and fully human. For an instant Venom felt a pang of hope that maybe Zato –

A clawed fist backhanded Venom across the face, and he went flying across the room. He crashed into the desk, cue slipping from his grip as the wood fractured around him. White light filled his eyes, and a wave of dizziness coursed through his head and prevented him from moving.

Although stunned, Venom could feel himself being picked up by the collar and slammed against the desk. He could not see his already dead target but could smell the man's blood and feel its wet stickiness in his hair and on his back. Even as his revulsion at the smell overcame him, Eddie again slammed Venom into desk. His head bounced on something metal and pointed, and his world slipped into hazy pain.

There was nothing, nothing but pain, and it seemed an eternity before Venom could again feel his limbs through the haze. It took another eternity to force open his eyes. The throbbing in his head made him nauseous, and he could only will himself not to black out. When he at last looked up, he saw red eyes peering down at him from a shadowy face. The demon regarded him with malicious curiosity.

"I SEE WE STILL HAVEN'T LEARNED, HAVE WE?"

Venom snarled, clawing at the black vice around his throat. He couldn't get the leverage needed to break free and writhed helplessly against the blood-slick desk. The demon chuckled at his failure. When it again spoke, the voice was different but painfully familiar.

"But you'll never learn, will you, my darling?"

Venom's eyes shot open at the soothing sound of Zato's voice. He looked up at his master's face, which wore an exasperated but amused smile. The hand around his throat was not Eddie's at all, but Zato's delicately groomed fingers, pale as Venom's hair in the moonlight. The grip was not brutal but gentle.

Venom ceased to struggle, mesmerized by the other's voice, as Zato continued, "Everything has to be done the hard way with you."

Zato lowered his head and his blonde hair pooled on the table, mingling with the white of Venom's. The assassin caught his breath as his master pressed his lips against Venom's mouth with loving tenderness.

Venom gasped, and Zato took the opportunity to slip his tongue between the other's lips. Venom felt something soft and moist run along his lower teeth and across his tongue. He tasted death and decay. He tasted rot and his own blood.

Venom gagged as he scrabbled against the other's pressure. Panic rose within him, and he screamed into the other's mouth. The other held him down while Venom thrashed with blind horror. At last satisfied, Zato released Venom and the assassin slid off the desk, collapsing to his knees.

The taste of the corpse filled his mouth and he began to dry heave onto the floor. He never ate before an assignment, so all that came up was a little spittle and some blood from his cut lip. He was aware that two faces were grinning down at him, but he couldn't raise his eyes as shudders wracked his frame.

"THEY ALWAYS SAY BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR." The demon looked down at Venom and this time it was only the demon's face – Eddie's face – that grinned. "YOU STILL WANT ME TO GIVE HIM BACK TO YOU?"

Venom noticed his pool cue a few inches away from his hand, but kept his eyes fixed on the ground. He shifted his weight, as if slumping in despair, so his fingertips brushed along the cylindrical steel. When he flexed his fingers, a booted foot slammed down on his hand. A cry of pain escaped his lips as his bones crunched under the other's heel.

"REALLY, VENOM, DO YOU THINK I'M AN IDIOT?"

Venom didn't answer, but rammed his free hand into Zato's crotch. This time he felt no hesitation. Eddie stumbled back, apparently hurt by the blow to his host, and Venom used the moment to seize his pool cue and smash it into Zato's face. The human host fell limp to the ground and even Eddie fell to his knees, both stunned by the blow.

Although still woozy from his head injury, Venom leapt back to use distance to his advantage. He raised his free hand, now mangled and throbbing, and focused his energy. The air sizzled as an entire set of balls sprang up around him, surrounding and protecting him from physical assault.

With one well-placed hit, the balls scattered around the room, bouncing off walls and furniture as they rushed toward their intended target. The shadow demon didn't have time to raise Zato's body as a shield and could only brace against the onslaught of balls. The steel balls hit as one, striking his arms and legs, face and body. With an inhuman cry of rage, the demon flew back into a bookshelf, which cracked and toppled on top of him.

Venom remained in a defensive stance as he watched the rain of fluttering pages and splintered wood. He kept his eyes fixed on the debris and waited for the slightest sign of movement, knowing better than to think that one attack could kill Eddie. But after a moment of quiet, Venom took a careful step forward.

And blackness rose from the floor beneath his feet. He had enough time to look down and see the giant spike of whirling darkness rise up. It pierced him through the back and threw him to the ground. He bounced across the hardwood floor, still gripping the cue, and skidded to a halt against something stiff and cold.

He raised his head enough to peer through his curtain of hair and saw Lord Zato's face, serene and untroubled, inches from his own. A black bandage still covered his eyes, but Venom was certain the other's eyes were open and looking at him.

Although Zato's expression was docile and doll-like, Venom felt a cold hand take him by the throat. Without loosening this grip on Venom, Zato rose jerkily to his feet and raised the assassin into the air.

Eddie's voice came from Zato's mouth, but the former Guild leader's face remained expressionless.

"INSOLENT DOG. I CAME TO OFFER A TRADE –YOUR BODY FOR THAT OF YOUR MASTERS'. BUT NOW..."

He trailed off and looked askance at the still struggling assassin, his gaze sending a chill through Venom.

"NOW I THINK I WILL REMAIN IN THIS BODY, AND LET YOU KEEP YOUR PATHETIC LIFE."

Zato opened his hands, and Venom gracelessly fell to the floor. His breath caught in his throat, and he began to wheeze in short, hacking gasps. It took all of his concentration not to slip into unconsciousness.

Although he could not focus, his eyes followed the other's movements. The shadows coalesced around Zato, and he transformed into Eddie's hellish figure – sleek muscles, sharp claws and malevolent eyes. Eddie-Zato not so much walked as glided to the door, apparently unafraid to turn their back to Venom.

"Wait!" Venom choked out, and the figure paused but did not turn to face him. The assassin continued as tears of frustration sprang into his eyes of their own accord. "Give him back. You don't have the right to keep him from me. Just give him back. Give him back..."

"HN. YOU'RE NOT WORTHY TO GET HIM BACK. LIVE ON AND DESPAIR, KNOWING THAT IN THE END, YOU FAILED HIM."

Venom extended an arm toward the other, but the creature melted away as it stepped into the corridor. With a shuddering sigh, his arm dropped and lay unmoving on the floor. Venom was again alone.

His little remaining strength vanished, and he let his head fall to the floor. The wood paneling was cool against his cheek and soothed his feverish skin. He could not move or think and even breathing became laborious. Venom stared blankly at the floor as he waited for the pinpricks to fade from his eyes and the pounding in his head to subside.

When at last he could move his limbs, Venom raised himself to his knees despite the pain that flooded through his arm and back. He closed his eyes and let the heat of the injuries pulse through him. Unwilling to fall and unable to rise, he remained on his hands and knees until he heard the sound of shouts from the hallway.

His eyes snapped open and adrenaline rushed through him, numbing part of the pain. Venom forced back his panic and tried to estimate the time. He turned his head enough to look out the window. The stars had faded and dawn approached. The second shift must have found the other guards' bodies.

He'd run out of time.

With a grunt of pain, Venom pushed himself to his feet. Only by leaning on his pool cue did he keep from falling over. But while he remained standing, the following wave of vertigo sent prickling white lights through his head and eyes, and he again fought the urge to vomit.

Venom took only one unsteady step forward when the door burst open. Three men with guns raised stood in the doorway. They hesitated long enough to locate their boss' corpse and assess the situation before opening fire on Venom.

Although the encounter with Eddie had drained the assassin, his instincts and training reacted in an instant. The cue spun as a pale blur in front of him. The bullets ricocheted on the whirling steel and flew back toward the heads and hearts of the guards, who fell one by one as the projectiles connected.

He always felt a pang of guilt for his secondary killings, but now a sense of urgency overwhelmed any such feelings. Venom moved toward the window to determine how many guards he would face in the courtyard. As he peered down onto the dark gardens surrounding the mansion, he heard the sound of gunfire and felt an explosion of pain through his shoulder and arm.

He jerked his head around and saw a gun slip from the hand of one of the collapsed but still living guards.

And then he was falling.

Venom tried to catch the window frame, but his hands failed to grip the edge. Headfirst he tumbled out of the window. As he felt the night air blow across him, he could only marvel at how time seemed to slow so he no longer felt that he was falling at all. He could not remember to where he was running or why he was so afraid. There was no reason why he couldn't fall like this forever – forever fall into that sweet blackness.

_Eddie_. Blackness with teeth and claws.

Venom's eyes snapped open and he twisted just in time to land on his feet rather than his head. Even as his feet hit the ground, the force of the landing sent a jolt of searing pain through his ankle and his knees buckled.

Despite this new injury, he wobbled to his feet and regained his balance. On unsteady feet he began to limp away from the mansion and to his checkpoint. He would retreat for now but it was far from over. The pain, the humiliation merged into a stronger feeling of hatred.

_Eddie. Make him suffer. Make him pay._

Again and again he repeated this in his mind. It was a mantra. It was a prayer. This was no longer about the Guild or about Lord Zato. This was about Eddie and how he was going to die.

He will pay. He will suffer.

Venom limped faster, each step sending spiked agony up his leg and through his body but he did not care. He limped away from the flashing lights and alarms to the safety of the quiet dawn. There would be hell to pay at the Guild for such a botched mission, but that didn't matter. None of that mattered.

All that mattered was that soon Venom's wounds would heal and then he would hunt down and kill Eddie. Even if he wore Zato's face.

_I will kill him,_ Venom thought, _And then I can die._

Buoyed by this sudden hope, Venom allowed himself a small smile.

* * *

Baiken felt a familiar tingling on the back of her neck. Long ago she'd come to recognize it as sign that she wasn't alone. It also tended to mean that things were about to die very soon, and usually at the end of her katana.

Without any particular concern she scanned the trees that flanked her path through the forest. The dirt road was wide and deserted, providing no good cover for her while the trees were dense enough to hide any number of threats. She spat out the grass stem she was chewing on, and her mouth twisted into a bitter half-smile.

Maybe it was just as well she'd left Anji behind. She didn't have much practice with fighting alongside an ally, and in her experience they were more of a nuisance than a help. Teamwork was what weak people did to feel better about their incompetence. With Anji out of the way, she wouldn't have to hold back.

That thought made her smile widen.

She stopped walking but her posture remained casual. When she drew her blade, the metal hummed in anticipation. Ever since Frankfurt, she'd been itching for a fight.

She called out, addressing the trees, "Oi! Y'all just gonna hide in the bushes like a bunch of pussies? If you wanna fight, you better grow some balls!"

There was silence followed by the sound of grinding metal. It was a painful and unnatural noise that set her teeth on edge. One by one, men emerged from the tree line and formed a wide circle around her.

Baiken surveyed her attackers with her eye half-lidded. Seven total and not Gears. Nothing but a warm-up.

They wore some old-fashioned uniform and carried identical swords. Although humanoid, they appeared more mechanical than organic. Their heads and arms drooped as if boneless, and they moved like puppets – wobbling forward with an unsteady shuffle. One in front of her raised its head, and she caught a glimpse of yellow eyes under the mop of coarse hair. When it spoke, its voice was as grinding and stilted as its appearance.

"BAIKENSEISHINOYOUAREWANTEDBYTHEPOSTWARADMINISTRATIONBUREAU. PLEASESURRENDERPEACEFULLY. YOUWILLNOTBEHARMED."

Baiken's glare would have sent real men running but this thing didn't so much as flinch. She grimaced as her annoyance increased then shifted into a fighting stance, feet wide apart and blade sweeping out by her side.

"Fuckers. I wanted to fight, not play with fucking dolls." After a considering pause, she added, "You'd better attack all together, because I'm in a shitty mood."

There was only a moment's hesitation before the things moved as one. The circle around her narrowed, and three attackers engaged Baiken at the same time. She parried a thrust while sidestepping another's swing as she let her fighting instincts take over.

The attacks kept coming. Engaged in combat, she could appreciate her opponents' abilities. Their awkward appearance was deceptive – they moved almost as fast as Zanuff and their strange blades were long enough to thwart her counter attacks.

Only instinct saved her from the slash aimed at her chest and another at her arm. One blade came inches from her face, severing strands of her bangs and creating a gust of wind that sizzled by her nose. A whirlwind of swinging steel and static electricity surrounded her.

A fourth opponent moved toward her left. Perhaps it hoped to take advantage of her blind spot, but she had lost her eye before she picked up the sword and years of fighting had turned that weakness into a strength. A club, studded with spikes, emerged from her tattered sleeve and with a swing of her shoulder she smashed it into the enemy's face. It stumbled back, knocking another one of its allies of balance, and Baiken used the opportunity to dash past it.

Despite the metal frame's resistance, her katana went cleanly through its neck, decapitating the machine in one slice. If the creature had been human, its body would have followed its head to the ground. Instead the headless body remained unmoving but upright until a fellow comrade slashed through its chest to strike at Baiken's back. As the robot fell in a shower of sparks and shrieking metal, she pivoted on her heel to avoid another swing then she raised her blade for another strike.

But before she could land another blow, she caught a flash of light from the corner of her eye. An opponent dashed forward with a slash at her legs, and she only had time to drop to one knee and parry with her katana. Steel met steel, and the force of the blow shivered up her sword and sent a spasm of numbness through her hand and arm. She did not lose her grip on the blade but her left arm slumped as the nerves deadened to her shoulder.

The attack may have stunned her arm, but it also left the attacker vulnerable. Her cold eyes met lifeless yellow ones for only an instant before two kunai flew from her right sleeve. They struck the robot almost simultaneously – one in each eye – and the sword slipped from its hands as it crumpled to the ground.

Seeing their companion fall, the remaining five robots jumped back out of her katana's range. They retuned to their initial positions, heads lowered and backs hunched, while Baiken regarded them with suspicion. With their speed, a head-on assault was risky but it galled her to play their game.

When they showed no sign of moving, Baiken lowered her weapon to provoke an attack. They remained still, doing nothing but emit faint humming noises interrupted with the occasional _click_ or _whir_. They seemed to be listening. Or perhaps planning. Either way it pissed her off.

She raised her weapon as anger overrode caution. They were in for a surprise if they thought she was a purely defensive fighter. She crouched low and turned her foot to prevent her zori from slipping on the dusty road. With a twist of her katana, she prepared to launch herself forward. But before she could move, the five robots leapt off the path and vanished into the surrounding woods.

Baiken froze, barely restraining her urge to follow. They would have the advantage in a forest fight, but if she let them go they could prepare an ambush further up the road. After a moment of indecision, she muttered a curse and sheathed her blade. If they attacked, they attacked. Whatever this Postwar Administration Bureau was didn't matter as long as it didn't interfere with her killing that man.

A light male voice caught her off-guard. "Baiken Seishino?"

Her blade was out in a heartbeat, and she spun around just as fast. About thirty feet away stood a youngish man. He resembled the robots, but his voice and manners suggested flesh and blood rather than machine. His blade was drawn but the gesture was not threatening. Baiken narrowed her eye, annoyed that he'd gotten so close without her sensing him.

She muttered, "I'm just so damn popular today." Baiken raised her voice for him to hear. "Those robots were pretty fucking pathetic. If you want to get the job done, you're gonna hafta get your hands dirty."

"I'm very sorry, but you are mistaken –"

"Shut yer pretty-boy mouth! You're the one who made the mistake, thinkin' you can fuck with me!"

The man raised his free hand as if to placate her and tried to speak. Baiken took advantage of this opening and swung her right sleeve forward. A metal claw, connected to her forearm with a chain, shot out and hissed through the air.

Although unprepared to counter, the man leapt back in time to avoid any serious injury but the metal still connected. It caught his outer cloak with hooks, which snared in the heavy fabric. He tugged at it, trying to disentangle the claw, but it was too late.

With a practiced twist she recalled the chain, which snapped back towards her with the man in tow. He stumbled forward a step before the metal hooks ripped through the fabric and released the material and him from her grip. The claw took only a little longer to retract and lock into place under her sleeve. In this moment the other regained his balance and tossed aside the remains of his cloak. By the time she charged, he was on guard with his blade held high.

She struck with her katana in the hopes of drawing an attack. She slashed across his chest, but he stepped back and parried with his own blade. As soon as their weapons connected, she felt a surge of static electricity fill the air around her. Baiken had little time to brace herself before crackling energy engulfed his weapon and he did a back flip high into the air. His sword became an arc of lightning with enough force to push her away from him.

The air in front of her sizzled and filled her nostrils with the smell of ozone. She didn't have to look down to know that the edges of her yukata had been singed by the electric charge. The man on the other hand, seemed unaffected by the magic in the air. He landed with lithe grace before returning to his defensive position.

He made no move to strike and instead met her eyes. "Miss Seishino, I am Ky Kiske, a detective for the International Police Force. We have reason to believe you are in great danger because of your Japanese heritage. Please, you must listen to me!"

Baiken studied him with her one good eye as she considered his words. He was young and disgustingly attractive – something that grated on her nerves. But there was strength beneath his delicate features, and his eyes were not young at all. Even if she hadn't seen his fighting abilities, his eyes would have told her that he was a warrior. Yet he looked at her with such guileless determination that it made her sick. It was the idealists that were the most difficult.

With a grimace of annoyance, she sheathed her weapon with practiced fluidity. The kid let out a sigh of relief and lowered his own weapon.

And Baiken dashed forward, ramming her knee into his stomach. He doubled over as Baiken used the moment to release her chain and wrap it around his neck. He collapsed to his knees, dropping his sword, and Baiken stood behind him with the chain just tight enough to prevent movement. With her remaining hand, she pulled back his head by his hair.

"I'm always in danger, kid." She said sharply, "But that don't mean I need your help."

As suddenly as she had struck, she released him and her chain withdrew back under her sleeve. She stepped away to give him time to recover. He remained hunched over, half wheezing, half coughing, as he massaged his bruised throat.

"Your opponent won't fight fair even if you do."

Even as she berated him, she felt a small pang of guilt. It wasn't fair to treat him so harshly just because she was having a bad day. He was young but so was Anji, and chances were he wasn't half as naive as Chipp.

She added in a more conciliatory tone, "But still, you ain't half bad; that lightning thing was pretty damn impressive. So what do you wanna say to me?"

At first he didn't answer. Although the coughing had stopped, his shoulders began to shake, his eyes fixed on the ground before him. Baiken felt a moment of alarm and wondered if she had left some permanent damage. Only when she looked closer did she realize he was shaking not from pain but from laughter.

She regarded him with concern. "Oi, kid. I didn't knock something loose, did I?"

Ky shook his head and mastered his amusement as he rose to his feet. Although he quelled the laughter, a rueful smile remained on his face.

"No, no, I'm fine. I was just thinking of how much you remind me of someone."

"Hn. Must be a real asshole."

The detective's smile didn't change, but his eyes grew regretful. "Pretty much."

His gaze returned to her and he continued in a more serious tone, "Miss Seishino, as I said, I'm a detective of the International Police Force. I'm currently investigating a series of disappearances. Those kidnapped have been primarily ki users and people in some way connected to Japan. This would make you a prime target." His eyes flickered to the robot parts behind Baiken. "It seems that I was right."

Ky waited for her to consider the information.

"First of all, call me Baiken. None of this 'Miss' crap." Baiken regarded the metal corpses lying in the road. "And second, those things are the kidnappers?"

"It seems likely."

She looked back at the detective, a flicker of suspicion in her eye. "They look a lot like you."

He became flustered. "There's reason to believe that someone has been collecting information about me and with that data has created these...erm...these..," He mumbled something Baiken couldn't quite hear.

"These what?"

Ky refused to meet her gaze. "These 'Robo-Kys.'"

Baiken gave him a flat stare. "Robo-Kys?"

Ky raised his hands defensively. "Hey! I-I didn't name them!"

Baiken contemplated the former Robo-Kys – now just twisted metal. On its own it was a weak and useless piece of junk, but put enough of them in a group and even she'd have trouble.

"Robo-Kys, eh?" She looked back at the detective. "Well you got my interest, kid. But I want sake before you say any more. I hate hearing bad news without alcohol."

The detective gave her a faint smile. "My lady, it would be an honor."

* * *

Venom's arm still ached when he used his pool cue, but he began training as soon as the Guild's doctor cleared him. He'd taken to practicing in the forest surrounding the Guild rather than in the designated training areas and used the innocent trees as targets. After a day of practice he would return to his chambers, having left a sizable chunk of the forest demolished. But as the weather turned colder, his limp became more pronounced and he moved practice to his private chambers.

Today was such an evening, and like most evenings he'd given explicit orders for no one to interrupt his pool sessions. Clyne of course acquiesced, but the look he gave his lord would have been disapproval on any other man. It irked the Guild leader that even Clyne second-guessed him. But this was only a secondary concern. As long as the lieutenant followed orders, Venom could care less what he thought.

He hit a ball with a little too much force and knocked both the intended target and the eight ball into a pocket. This was his third mistake in as many minutes. Venom threw his cue across the table as he turned away in annoyance. Frustration increased the ache in his right hand, and he caught himself cradling it against his stomach.

He let it fall, fingers throbbing, which made the pounding move to his head – the beginnings of another migraine. These past few weeks, they'd become an almost daily occurrence. With a muttered curse, he limped over to the wet bar and poured a drink.

"You look like shit," A familiar voice remarked.

Although Venom had not noticed the other's presence, he felt no surprise. In some ways he'd been expecting Chipp – bad things always happen in groups, they said. He finished filling his glass and replaced the crystal container on the shelf.

He did not turn to face the ninja as he spoke. "I remember saying I'd kill you myself if I caught you on Guild property outside of the library."

"Yeah, well you don't look like you're gonna be doing much killing anytime soon."

Venom took a sip of the amber liquid. Although he'd never acquired a taste for alcohol, it eased his aches and stopped the trembling in his hands. The spirits slid down his throat, warming and numbing him at the same time. When it settled in his stomach, he placed the glass on the counter and at last turned to regard the other man.

Chipp sat on the pool table without disturbing any of the balls. It had been over a month since he last saw Chipp, but the other seemed mostly unchanged. Perhaps a little more pale, perhaps a little thinner, but he dangled his legs in the same distracted and childish manner that Venom associated with the younger man.

Venom moved toward the billiards table, ignoring him as he retrieved his pool cue and began to remove the balls from the pockets. Chipp seemed unconcerned.

After a moment of silence, Venom asked, "What do you want?"

Chipp did not answer at first, but his legs stopped swinging. He reached over to roll a distant pool ball closer to Venom, who accepted it without looking up or acknowledging the other's help. Chipp let his gaze wander to the ceiling of the room. It was inlayed with intricate patterns made from various hardwoods. During its peak, the Assassin's Guild had been quite wealthy and these private chambers reflected that wealth.

"I dunno. It's been a while, I guess. And I figured..." Chipp trailed off and took an assessing look around the room. "This is a pretty nice place. It's all yours?"

Venom shrugged. "These have traditionally been the private chambers of the Guild Leader. Lord Zato used it as a study, but I had one of the pool tables moved here to use for training."

Chipp visibly perked up at the word 'training.' He seemed to regard the room with newfound respect.

"I get it! It must be nice being able to train indoors. I always train outside. With Master Tsuyoshi we didn't have much choice but he always said working outdoors makes you stronger."

Even after all these years, Venom still could picture Tsuyoshi's face, unsmiling and scarred by a lifetime of fights. It had been stern but never cruel and gave Venom the impression of stone – old and worn but almost unbreakable. He wondered if he had looked that strong in death.

"Yes, Tsuyoshi was old-fashioned like that."

The words escaped his lips before he could catch himself, and this time Chipp noticed them as well. The ninja gave him a hard stare, "Wait a minute. You knew Master Tsuyoshi?"

Venom avoided meeting Chipp's eyes by looking down at the pool balls in his hand. It was too late to deny it, so Venom merely shrugged his shoulders. "We had met."

Chipp jumped to his feet and tried to look more closely at Venom from across the pool table. The assassin could sense Chipp's growing agitation as his hands began to tremble.

"You've met? What does that mean? You met him once? You met him a couple times? Or..." Chipp's eyes grew cold, and his words came out almost as a snarl. "Or you were one of the guys who killed him!"

Venom's head snapped up as if it were a physical assault and felt his own anger rising. He could not understand why the accusation in the other's eyes hurt him so deeply, or why it made him think of Eddie's cruel smile. But suddenly all those weeks of pain and humiliation, forced down and hidden away, bubbled to the surface like a festering wound. They consumed him, crying for vengeance, but there was no one here but Chipp.

Venom could only mutter through his teeth, "You still don't get it, stupid boy. Your master was a ninja – a shinobi. Don't you know what that means? He was an assassin, you fool. He was an assassin like me!"

Chipp's normally pale face became bloodless, and his red eyes glittered with animal fury. Despite this anger, his voice still wavered with uncertainty. "Y-you're lying! He was killed by assassins. He...he'd never do those things. He was an honorable man."

"No." Venom's words were as cold as his eyes. "He was an assassin and a lousy one at that. And when he failed, we killed him."

Chipp's speed always surprised him so the blow to his stomach caught Venom off guard. He stumbled back as the balls tumbled from his hand. His back bumped into a bookshelf and knocked books from its shelves.

Chipp stood before him, his whole body shaking with emotion and his breath short and ragged. For the first time, Venom saw murderous intent in the ninja's eyes. As an assassin he knew that look. It was an absence of compassion or pity and held an impossible coldness.

It meant that only one of them was going to live.

Venom felt himself go cold as well. The sight of Chipp disgusted him, and he suddenly loathed the man more than anything. He wanted to hurt him, to cause him pain. Venom always had disapproved of cruelty in assassins as he considered it unprofessional. Now he understood its appeal. Hurt the other until the pain stops. Hurt them until there is nothing left to feel.

With a snarl Venom lunged forward. The pain through his body evaporated as the desire to kill filled him. He moved as a lifetime in the Assassin's Guild had trained him. The pool cue spun before Venom and although it was not steel or designed to kill, in his hands it could tear a man apart.

Chipp did not dodge the attack but blocked, raising both arms to lessen the impact. Venom's rush pushed him back only a few steps and as soon as the pole stopped spinning, Chipp grabbed the end and sprang forward, punching Venom across the face. Venom's head snapped back but not before he twisted the cue in his grip and rammed the heavy end into the other's solar plexus.

Both men stumbled apart, stunned by the blows. As they recovered, two sets of eyes filled with mirrored fury met only for an instant before they charged again. Despite Venom's longer range, Chipp managed to strike first with a volley of punches. The assassin turned them aside with his pool cue, exploiting the flaws of the other's attacks.

Venom's wounds affected the precision and speed of his strikes, but Chipp was impaired by his anger. The ninja's punches had become stronger, but he moved perceptively slower and telegraphed his intentions. He had grown reckless and no longer tried to avoid the other's attacks. With anger Chipp became sloppy.

When the ninja brought his foot up to hit Venom's head, the assassin countered with his own strike that sent Chipp careening into the far wall. He rebounded off an oil painting, which slid off the wall with a crash. The ninja recovered mid-fall and before he hit the floor, Chipp tucked into a flip so he landed on his feet. As soon as his feet touched the ground he dashed toward Venom for yet another head-on assault.

The assassin drew his arm back to ready a counter blow but before Chipp entered his range, the ninja flickered out of sight. Although Venom knew the attack was coming, he did not have time to react when Chipp appeared above his head.

The ninja's foot connected with his chest as Chipp struck with enough force to send them both sprawling to the floor. Even as Venom's back hit the ground, a hand clamped around his bicep and restrained his arm with the pool cue. A knee brought itself down on Venom's chest and knocked the air out of Venom's lungs. Venom wheezed as Chipp's free hand shot out and closed around his neck.

Lips pulled back in an angry snarl, Chipp's voice cracked with anger, caught between a snarl and a scream.. "You bastard! You lying bastard! You're no better than the rest of them! I won't forgive you!"

Venom curled his free hand around Chipp's wrist and yanked, hoping to break the other's hold. The ninja's arm was like iron, and Venom felt tough cords of sinew under the warmth of his skin. As his dug his fingers and nails deeper into Chipp's flesh, he realized something was out of place. It took another moment to realize what – Chipp was not wearing his arm blade.

In all the nights that he came to the library, Chipp had never been unarmed. That arm blade was as much a part of him as his big mouth. Venom could not imagine why he would leave it behind, and his surprise was great enough that he ceased struggling for a moment. Chipp in turn hesitated as he watched Venom with suspicion. The grip around Venom's throat eased and he could again draw breath.

He raised his head off the ground, and with a fresh wave of strength twisted out of the other's loosened grip. He brought his leg up to knock Chipp off of him then struck his cue across Chipp's arm. The wooden pole shattered from the impact but struck hard enough to send the lighter man flying.

Barely had Chipp landed before Venom stumbled to his feet and kicked the stunned man in the ribs. The ninja again rolled back from the blow and this time his head hit the corner of the pool table with an audible crack. Chipp's eyes seemed to glaze and he made no attempt to rise.

Venom limped to a rack of pool cues and picked out the heaviest. From the corner of his eye, he saw Chipp struggling to his feet. His one arm hung uselessly at his side, and blood matted the left half of his face. It stained his white hair a dark red and shone wetly on his black clothing. He had trouble keeping his balance and couldn't quite straighten his back. His good hand clutched at the edge of the pool table, but it was smeared with blood making his grip slip. The sight of Chipp battered and wounded but still trying to fight further irritated the assassin.

He raised his new weapon into the air, and balls materialized before Chipp. The steel cue ball, his killing cue ball, felt light in his hands as he spun it out of his hands. It rotated a few times then hung in the air a little above Venom's head.

With a heavy swing, he brought the edge of the cue forward and smashed it into the ball. It in turn struck the mass of balls, which broke apart and sent projectiles pounding into Chipp. The injured ninja managed to deflect some of the balls directed at his left arm and side, but could not stop them from hitting his defenseless right flank. He fell back and bounced off the pool table before falling face first to the floor.

Venom walked forward, cold murder in his eyes, as Chipp tried without success to raise himself off the ground. Venom stopped in front of him and met the other's bloodshot eyes. The ninja could hardly keep his head up, but his gaze still held defiance. They glittered with anger and something less obvious. It was only when Chipp began to speak that Venom realized what it was.

"So you'll murder me like you murdered my master?" Chipp began to shake. His arm buckled and he fell back to the ground. "What does it matter? I've already failed him. I've already failed everybody."

He let out a hoarse groan and sobs began to wrack his battered frame. His words were became little more than a whisper between breaths.

"master...forgive me..."

The cue slipped from Venom's fingers as his desire to kill faded. It unnerved him to see Chipp crying. Chipp, who seemed so indestructible, so hopeful; Chipp, who was afraid of nothing and believed in everything. Surely this was not the same man.

It occurred to Venom that the other must be in his early twenties, perhaps even younger. Yet despite such youth, he carried pain as deep as Venom's. The assassin imagined himself as a child, as a man, and wondered if he bore any resemblance to Chipp.

Was that what he looked like to Eddie? So helpless and ready to die? Did he look so young that it was almost painful?

Venom knelt down and brushed a tentative hand across the base of Chipp's neck. Up close, he could see the splotchy bruises already forming under translucent skin. Streaks of blood clumped his spiky hair and smeared across his cheeks. Venom raised his hand and saw that the tips of his fingers were also sticky with blood.

"I...I'm sorry..." He whispered.

Chipp did not seem to register the words. His eyes fluttered closed and he slipped into unconsciousness with a sigh. His breath became even and his expression almost peaceful.

Venom did not move. His mind was cloudy and made it difficult to think. He could do nothing but remain in place. Only when he heard the tentative creak of the door did he look up with a start.

A young girl stood in the threshold, her look wavering between fear and concern. In his confused state, it took Venom a moment to recognize her. It was the same girl that Chipp had knocked out the night they met in the library. Her name was Cena...Ciena. She clutched the doorknob with trembling fingers and seemed almost too frightened to speak.

"What?" Venom's voice was cold, and he mentally berated himself for being so abrupt.

The girl became more nervous under the scrutiny of the Guild leader, but she gathered her courage and managed to speak in a whisper. "I...I know you said w-we were not to enter, but...but..." She trailed off as a look of terror filled her eyes. "But I heard the noise and I wanted to make sure you were all right, Lord Venom!"

Venom stared at her with confusion until he recalled his orders to Clyne. "Oh, right. Yes, I-I'm fine." His eyes flickered to Chipp's prone form. "But you were correct to have entered. Get a medic and first aid equipment for my...friend. Quickly."

The crisp orders helped Ciena regain her composure and with a curt nod, she darted out of the room. Venom watched her go. She seemed discreet enough, but between the noise of their confrontation and his summons for a medic, rumors would be inevitable. Venom would have to come up with some excuse, but right now he was too tired to think about it.

Ignoring his own injuries, Venom returned his attention to Chipp and checked for any serious damage. It was as he suspected – the injuries were severe but not life threatening. The other would feel a lot of pain, but with care would have a full recovery.

Unconscious, Chipp did not stir as Venom examined him, but Venom hoped it was not the dangerous sort of unconsciousness. Unable to do anything more, Venom stabilized his head and neck and waited.

It was not a long wait and only when he heard the sound of Ciena returning with a doctor did he wonder about the repercussions for his decision.


	7. Fears and Hopes

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari

**Notes: **

Half of the conversation about the Outrage Project is fact and the other half is speculation. I'm not saying which is which :).

Also since I won't have Internet access next week, I'm going to miss my usual Monday update just this once. To everyone who has been reading, I apologize for this delay but thank you for (hopefully) enjoying it. In any case I'm enjoying myself XD.

**Chapter 7: Fears and Hopes**

Chipp dreamed about the projects – cold concrete damp with mold and full of asbestos and rats. He dreamed about the waxy half-dead faces of the street urchins and the cries of the baby next door, which always sounded like a cat's mews through the thin walls. He might have dreamed about his mother, but her care-worn face had been lost in shadows, and he saw only thin lips drawn together in a disapproving line.

He dreamed of Master Tsuyoshi, but his hair was bone-white and his skin brown as the earth, soil-warm. And when Chipp met his eyes, they were blue chips of ice and he realized the man was not Tsuyoshi at all. And there was a child, looking at him with concern. Her face was a pale oval, soft and smooth, but her dark eyes were too old for such a young face.

He reached out to her, but she said something and he let his hand fall limp to his chest. She had said something he couldn't quite hear, but it made him tired and he thrashed around as he tried to fall deeper into oblivion.

But then he woke up.

As soon as Chipp opened his eyes, he squeezed them shut. Sunlight streamed directly into his face causing his albino skin and eyes to prickle in protest. With a grumble of annoyance, he burrowed deeper into the covers.

And realized he was in someone else's bed.

His eyes shot open, and he cautiously poked his head back into the daylight. With squinted eyes, he examined his unfamiliar surroundings. The room was spacious and elegant, and the furniture looked old in the "expensive antique" way rather than the "found on the side of the road" way that he was more accustomed to. Chipp didn't know much about that sort of thing, but he could guess that everything here was worth a lot. Even the sheets, crisp and clean as if freshly laundered, were soft to the touch.

When he craned his neck to get a better look, pain shot through his right arm and shoulder. He glanced down in surprise. His arm was in a splint and his shoulder had been wrapped as carefully as in any hospital. He fingered the bandage wrapped around his head as hazy memories of the last few days – or was it weeks? – returned to him.

He'd fought with Venom and lost, but Venom hadn't killed him. No death, only pain and blackness. Chipp could remember the detached eyes of the doctor that had assessed his injuries as well as those of a young girl, gliding in and out of the room as she cared for Chipp. And he could remember Venom lurking in the background, present but silent like some guilty shadow. Beyond that there was nothing but the persistent dreams that somehow managed to bother him even through the haze of painkillers. He resolutely drove the memories from his mind and propped himself onto his elbows with care.

He'd lost to Venom.

The realization hit him like a punch in the face. Ignoring the pain in his stomach, he sat all the way up and gazed down at his bandaged hands. His left index finger, probably broken, was wrapped in gauze, and his right knuckles stung when he curled his hand into a fist.

Tsuyoshi had always warned him that ninjitsu required strict concentration and calm self-assurance. His fighting technique left no room for blind attacks or careless strategy, and as much as Chipp let his temper get the better of him, he'd always fought as Tsuyoshi had taught him.

Until now.

He'd failed his master again. That seemed to be the story of his life.

With slow movements to minimize the pain, Chipp pushed back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He took a moment to look around and catch his breath. This must be Venom's bedroom – if the sober elegance of a mausoleum hadn't given it away, the black satin sheets were the clincher. Normal people didn't have shit like that, right?

He rose to his feet and vaguely wondered if being in Venom's bed should have disturbed him. After a moment of consideration, he decided that he was in too much pain to care.

Chipp limped to a nearby chair where his clothes lay neatly folded as if waiting for him. His jacket was the easiest thing to get on and he pulled it over his fishnet shirt with only his right hand. The pants took a little more effort as he tried to avoid the deep bruises in his thighs and calves while balancing on first one leg then the other. By the time he reattached his collar and awkwardly pulled on his boots, he noticed his arm blade lying on a table in the corner.

He winced, wanting to curl up in shame.

It had been stupid to attack Venom in the Assassin's Guild and even stupider to do it unarmed. He didn't know what he'd been thinking when he took his arm blade off outside of Venom's chambers. Maybe he had figured it was polite not to come armed into someone else's room. Or maybe he was just a dumbshit. Whatever the reason, as he clicked the blade back into place, Chipp vowed never to be caught weaponless again.

It took only a moment to focus his ki and mutter the incantation that made his body invisible. Although he felt tired and hungry, the first step was to get as far from the Assassin's Guild as possible. Although he couldn't help wondering why Venom would show mercy to an enemy, he had no desire to confront the Guild leader again. Library or no, Chipp wasn't coming back to this place.

He needed time alone; he needed time to think. It was a bonus if he found some shit-for-brains street thugs to beat the crap out of, since that usually made things better. With a smile at this thought, Chipp slipped through the door. Neither the doctor nor the servant girl were anywhere in sight.

Leaving the Guild grounds was surprisingly easy. The guards followed the same routes that they did at night, and none of them were at Tsuyoshi's – or even Chipp's – caliber. As long as he didn't stumble upon Venom himself or that creepy redheaded man, escaping would be no problem.

His movements in the complex were slow and deliberate, but once in the forest surrounding the Guild, Chipp began to go quickly, ignoring his recent injuries. His training had taught him to master physical pain, and part of him was simply happy to be running again. Going through the dense woods, everything became distant, and as he sped past the vegetation, he felt that any problems in life were also being left behind.

A smile flickered across his face.

He saw movement in his peripheral vision and reacted without thinking. He had been in mid-leap, but in an instant he teleported to the heavy branch of a tree, avoiding the explosion that blossomed where he would have been. Chipp crouched on the limb, ready to move in any direction as he scanned the surrounding forest. His mind was already focused on the battle and his unseen attacker.

There was a white blur and a burst of electricity next to him, and he leapt away as the limb of the tree crashed to the ground. His legs felt a spike of pain from his heavy landing, but anticipation for the coming fight overruled his body's protests. He may not have known a lot of things but he knew fighting, and his fist clenched with savage joy at the surge of adrenaline.

His attacker seemed to realize a sneak-attack was not possible and landed next to the splintered tree. His uniform seemed distantly familiar, but Chipp could not place it and didn't care enough to try. The other's head remained lowered as his cloak fluttered behind him.

"CHIPPZANUFFYOUAREWANTEDBYTHEPOSTWARADMINISTRATIONBUREAU. PLEASESURRENDERPEACEFULLY. YOUWILLNOTBEHARMED."

Chipp rolled his eyes. "How fucking original."

By now, his legs were accustomed to sudden movements, and Chipp shot toward his opponent as fast as his injuries allowed. It was more than fast enough for the other, who didn't even brace himself. Chipp smashed his fist into the other's face but rather than snapping the other's head back, he felt pain flood through his right hand and up to his elbow.

"Ow, ow, ow!"

Chipp leapt back, clutching his fist – he'd be lucky if nothing was broken – and gave his opponent an annoyed but assessing glare. He had just enough time to realize something was not quite right about the other's movements before his enemy launched a counter-attack.

The sword's slash unleashed a wave of electric energy, and while the ninja dodged with relative ease, he felt his face numb from the static in the air. The other was a fair bit faster than his appearance suggested.

Chipp ducked under a slash aimed at his face then blocked the following kick with his mostly uninjured left forearm. He took a closer look at the other man.

His opponent's movements were as fast and precise as those of a skilled fighter, but there was something jerky and unnatural about the way he held himself. Chipp clenched his fist, still stinging from the punch to the other's face. Either this guy was wearing some strange new armor or he was something not human.

Chipp changed tactics and struck under its chin, the force of his ki-charged uppercut sending the other flying into a tree. The ninja couldn't help a pleased grin.

"Heh, you're just shit from a scrap heap. You ain't so tough, asshole."

The other, its head and arms sagging, staggered to its feet. It had just enough time to see Chipp's fist, glowing with energy, slam into its chest, but this time the metal frame caved inward. Upon impact Chipp flipped over and brought his leg down across the other's head and sent it crashing to the ground.

As the other fell forward, the ninja planted both his feet on its back and sprang into the air. While the other skidded across the ground, he flipped over and landed on a tree limb. With his injuries, it took a moment to center his ki but now that he was calm, it moved through his body with ease. The energy flowed almost instinctively and filled his whole body, spilling into the air around him.

It was time to finish this.

Although the other's face was blank, Chipp thought something akin to shock filled those mechanical eyes as he dashed past, slicing with his blade. The strange sword fell from its hand, but Chipp was not finished. Rebounding from tree trunk to tree trunk, he continued to dash past it, each time cutting deeper and deeper with his arm blade. At last he sprang into the air and came down, arm stretched out before him, on top of his opponent.

Chipp reinforced the blade with his ki and it cut without resistance. The steel sliced through both plastics and metals, ripping apart both the hard shell and fragile innards of his opponent with ease. Chipp's handspring on his already injured arm was not quite as elegant as the rest of his attack, and he landed with enough force to knock the wind out of him and cause him gasp in pain. His unhealed wounds screamed with throbbing heat, but he knew this battle was over.

The robot's gears gave a squeal of protest and then a shudder ran through it. Its arms and torso jerked with spasms and then it began to fall. As it hit the spongy forest floor, it shattered like a glass statue and broke along the thin cuts Chipp had inflicted.

After taking a moment to admire his handiwork, Chipp at last rose to his feet. Although dizzy from the exertion, he managed the grin that Anji always described as "shit-eating."

He stretched his shoulders and arms as much as the bandages and splint permitted, and involuntarily cracked his knuckles before the pain reminded him of his newest injuries. He let out a yelp of surprise, and gave the robot remains a dirty look as if it were their fault.

With a curse of annoyance, Chipp kicked a stray piece of torso and began to leave the wreckage. He stepped over the various pieces of body parts but stopped before the strange sword. He noticed it still emitted a few sparks of electricity and he gave it a considering look. It seemed distantly familiar, much like the uniform, but he still could not remember from where or its significance.

He nudged aside the robot's head and reached for the weapon. A mechanical hand, severed at the elbow, still clung to the hilt. As Chipp grasped the sword, the disembodied hand released the blade and caught him by the wrist. Chipp yelped again, this time from surprise.

He felt a prick of pain as he tried to wrench the robotic arm off of him. It resisted, metal digging through his muscles and grinding against his bone, and it refused to release him no matter how hard he pulled. At last Chipp let out a blast of ki, and the arm exploded from the inside. There was a loud crunching sound as black smoke began to pour out of the fried circuitry. The hand ceased offering resistance and he pulled it off with care.

Raising it into the air, Chipp noticed a thin needle extending from its palm. It glistened with his blood and he tossed it aside in disgust. He had other things to worry about.

Hot prickles began to run through his arm and cause his muscles to spasm and go numb. He could feel some sort of poison traveling through his system, up his arm and to his head, with each passing heartbeat. He didn't even have time to panic as a wave of dizziness hit him and brought him to his knees. He dug his fingertips into his now unresponsive wrist while his vision clouded around the edges.

Chipp turned to glare at the robot's head. Although badly damaged, its eyes still flashed, which further infuriated the ninja. With his last remaining strength, he brought his fist sizzling with ki sparks down onto the head. The face crumpled and the yellow eyes popped out, still connected by plastic-covered wires.

He began to fall forward, too weak to catch himself, and landed face first next to his opponent's remains. Although he felt no pain, he couldn't feel his face and wondered if he had broken his nose. It would figure with his luck.

Although he could no longer keep his eyes open, Chipp managed to mutter, "...bastard...that ain't fair..."

And then there was nothing.

* * *

_Ky walked through the archway that provided the only passage from the Knights' fortifications to the outside world. He nodded to the two young officers on patrol duty, both of whom snapped a crisp salute upon recognizing him. The sun was low on the horizon, and soon it wouldn't be safe to remain outside of the heavy stone walls that had protected his beloved Order for so long._

_Yet despite the danger, he enjoyed this time of day and took every opportunity to spend it outside of the walls. In the fading light, he found a solitude that didn't occur in the close quarters of the fortress. And only here could he set aside his responsibilities as the Order's leader and contemplate the day's end in peace. _

_Or not quite in peace._

_He saw a familiar figure sitting on the hillside that overlooked the mountains to the west. Ky hesitated before walking over, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable conflict. He was determined to not let the other ruin his peaceful frame of mind._

"_Officer Badguy, you know it is unacceptable to leave watch-duty early."_

_Sol gave him a dry look and took a long drag from his cigarette before answering. "Commander Kiske, I got off of watch-duty ten minutes ago. I'm just enjoying the view...sir."_

_With the words, Sol gave a lazy salute, cigarette still in hand. He said the word "sir" with a hint of a smirk that always made Ky flush. It wasn't contemptuous enough to be considered insubordinate, but it lacked any respect. Ky felt his patience slipping._

"_Officer Badguy, you know that all soldiers are expected to remain within the city walls at night."_

"_Yeah? So what are you doing out here...Commander?"_

_Ky let out a sigh in exasperation but restrained himself. He remembered his conversation with Kliff earlier that week, when the former Commander had asked him to make a special effort to get along with Sol._

"_I wanted..." Ky sighed and sat down next to Sol with a slump of defeat. "Look, Sol, let's not fight. At least for this evening, okay? I don't know what I did that I can never earn your respect, but just for a little while can you forgive me?"_

_Although his eyes were focused on a clump of grass by their feet, he could feel Sol's gaze on him. There was a long pause and then Sol shifted, causing his Order robes to rustle._

"_Yeah, whatever." Sol crushed the stub of his cigarette into the ground and flicked it away. When he again spoke, his voice was a rocky growl. "Anyway it's your fault."_

_  
"What?"_

"_I said it's your fault. You're always such a good little boy. Really pisses me off – you trying to make everyone happy."_

"_What's wrong with that!"_

"_You're unsure of yourself. You want me to respect you, but you don't even respect yourself. That's pretty fucking pathetic."_

"_Pathetic!" Ky knew he was blushing again and hoped the sky was dark enough to hide the color in his cheeks. Somehow he didn't think he was that lucky. "You're right. Maybe I am pathetic. Maybe I don't know exactly what I need to be or what I need to do. But I can't abandon my responsibilities so easily. I have to do my best to protect everyone, even if I'm not qualified. Maybe you want to be in charge of the Order instead?" _

_He knew the last bit was sullen and petty, but Sol always brought out the worst in him._

_The other man looked toward the setting sun, and after a long pause replied in his usual bored drawl. "Naw. I'm good."_

_Ky glared. "Oh?"_

"_Yeah. Too much paper work."_

_Ky opened his mouth to retort, but closed it when he noticed the other's quirked lips. Realizing the absurdity of the conversation, he forgot his angry words and gave a rueful laugh._

"_I can't argue with that."_

"_Commander Kiske, keep this up and you might dislodge that stick up your ass."_

_Although Ky gave Sol a sharp look, the other's eyes held none of his usual contempt. There was mockery, yes, but it lacked that biting condescension that irritated Kiske. Sol's expression was so unfamiliar that it took a moment for Ky to recognize his subordinate's expectant look. It was a joke. Sol was making a joke._

_Most of the other men were too much in awe to approach, much less speak, to him. They usually treated him in a distant, albeit respectful way. Only Kliff with his good-natured grumbling had ever teased Ky, but since his retirement even he had begun to address him as the commander of the Knights rather than a favorite pupil. _

_Ky felt a surge of pleasure. Sol was joking with him as an equal, maybe even a friend. He gave a tentative smile to soften his words._

"_Since you're off duty, that's 'Ky.' And maybe if you actually listened to my orders, I wouldn't have to be so strict."_

"_Hn. I always get the job done. That's what matters, right?"_

_Ky gave him a sad look. "We have to fight against the Gears, yes, but the most important thing is keeping everyone safe."_

_Even in the long shadows of the setting sun, Ky could feel Sol's gaze burning into him. The dusky light had turned his eyes almost yellow and they gleamed like those of a feral cat. At such times Sol barely looked human, but Ky felt no fear even when Sol reached over to brush the hair out of his eyes with a casual gesture. _

_When he spoke, his words were soft but gravelly. "That's what I've always hated the most about you – your naiveté."_

_Ky caught the other's hand, unsure whether he intended to push it away or pull it closer. It was rough with calluses and hard under the other's warm skin. Ky continued to look into Sol's eyes, searching for something that he couldn't find._

"_Compassion isn't a weakness, Sol. One day I'll prove that to you."_

_He released the other's palm and as Sol let his hand fall back to his side, his thumb brushed against Ky's cheek. Ky felt goosebumps rise on his arms. Sol seemed about to speak but for a long time did not say anything. _

_At last he dropped his eyes, looking away from Ky's face and an enigmatic smirk turned up his lips. He rose to his feet with a faint popping of joints and stretched his back. In the growing darkness, his Order uniform seemed dark blue or black rather than white – its stripes of red turned to a rust-colored blood._

_Ky did not move, but in the absence of the other's body heat he now felt the chill of the night air. He made no move to warm himself and instead continued to watch the other in silence. He felt he ought to speak but words were failing him. Something important was happening, but he didn't know what it was._

_The moment passed, and Sol took a step away from him. As he lit a new cigarette, he mumbled from the corner of his mouth. _

"_Thanks for the company, kiddo." He gave his commander a heavy-lidded look before adding, "And remember, Ky. Things aren't always as easy as they seem. The world's more gray than black and white, yeah?"_

"_I...I don't understand."_

"_It don't matter. Just take care of yourself. I...never mind. It don't matter." He repeated, turning his back to Ky._

_Sol began to saunter toward the base, his ponytail flicking like some animal's tail. and quickly dissolved into the shadows of night. Even after he disappeared from sight, Ky remained seated. He suddenly felt even more drained than when he fought with Sol. _

_Only when he heard the eerie howl of some night predator did he remember the curfew he himself had set for the Knights. He had to get back to the base._

_With a push, he rose to his feet, brushed the dust from his hands and uniform and began walking toward the Order's fortifications._

And his eyes fluttered open. He looked out the helicopter window and down to the patchwork fields of yellow and brown far beneath him. It took a moment to reorient his thoughts and distinguish dream-memory from reality. He propped his chin on his hand as the lightness of sleep dissipated from his mind.

That night would remain preserved in his mind as clear as any photograph or movie. That was the night that Sol stole Fireseal and left the Order. That was the last time he saw Sol as a comrade.

But that was also long ago – ancient history, as they said in A-Country. And this current case required all of his concentration. He was en route to Zepp to discuss the Robo-Ky situation with president Gabriel. Baiken was safe within the care of the IPF, much to her annoyance. She had agreed to stay only on the condition that Ky would use all his resources to locate Anji.

When she learned of the connection between the victims and the second Holy Knights tournament, her normally stoic face grew restless with unease. She mentioned that he had participated in that tournament and until recently had traveled with her. She added that finding him might be a good lead. She did not say that she worried about his safety, but unspoken concern flickered in her eye.

The pilot's voice through his headphones interrupted his thoughts. "Detective Kiske? We are about to land, sir."

Ky nodded and prepared himself for the descent. He felt the air pressure change and a feeling of weightlessness throughout his body as the vehicle dipped down. While the pilot began his descent, the detective looked back out the window. His eyes caught sight of a lone main waiting on the helipad, no doubt intended as his escort to President Gabriel.

As soon as the helicopter touched down, the soldier moved forward to open the door. He gave a sharp salute as Ky hopped from the vehicle.

In a brisk manner, the soldier began, "Sir Kiske, I am Major Tsoi and your escort through our Zepp Central Congress building. Please come this way. I am to take you to the Blue Room immediately."

Ky nodded and followed with a sinking heart. The only time governments were this prompt was when there was bad news.

He was an infrequent visitor of Zepp so he was unfamiliar with the location of the Blue Room. The Central Congress, the home for almost all of Zepp's centralized bureaucracy, was a winding maze of terrifying proportions. Although the two men entered through the helipad entrance and thus avoided the lower levels of lackeys and paper pushers, even here the halls bustled with people coming in and out of unmarked doors. Yet as they made their way further in and up, Ky saw fewer and fewer people.

Tsoi did not try to make idle talk and while he answered all of Ky's questions to the best of his ability, he spoke coolly and without enthusiasm. The detective for his part avoided the issue of the Robo-Kys – the issue he had come to discuss – and instead asked about the various levels and positions within the Central Congress. Although Ky found it a trivial and mostly irrelevant conversation, he preferred it to the long silence of the other leading him down the endless corridors.

When at last Major Tsoi stopped before a heavy door, the detective tried to regain his bearings and found he was thoroughly lost. Although Ky hated being in unfamiliar surroundings, he couldn't help a rueful smile. This meeting better go well enough that he got an escort back to his helicopter.

Tsoi pushed it open and gestured for Ky to enter. As soon as Ky stepped into the Blue Room, Tsoi gave a half bow. "Excuse me, Sir Kiske. It will only be a few minutes. Please make yourself at home."

When Ky nodded his thanks, the major closed the door with a soft _snick_. Left alone the detective couldn't help a bemused head shake at his strange reception and Major Tsoi's polite but standoffish manners. Zepp was the most closed off of the nations and notorious for its abrupt treatment of visiting dignitaries. Here they did not believe in political pleasantries such as small talk, especially between people of different ranks.

Ky took a cursory look of the room. As its name suggested the walls and carpet were various shades of blue. Although spacious and carefully furnished, it was an informal room – the walls covered by rows of bookshelves and cushioned couches and chairs positioned around a low table in the center. Even in unorthodox Zepp, it would be a place for receiving guests, not for creating important policies.

Surely Gabriel did not intend to meet him here to discuss the Robo-Ky situation. Although Ky had developed almost a friendship with the old leader of Zepp, Gabriel always treated him with formality when he came on business. As Ky tried to figure out why this room had been chosen, he heard the latch on a door click.

"Hello, Sir Kiske." The words were not so much spoken as rumbled, and Ky felt the vibrations resonate in his chest.

Ky turned to see Potemkin, balancing a silver platter on two fingers and his thumb, enter the room through a side door. He had to duck his head and turn sideways to get through the normal-sized threshold. With the greatest care, he walked over to the chairs in the center of the room and lowered the tray to the low-set table.

The tray carried a bowl of sugar, a pewter milk jug and some tea biscuits as well as two cups, one made of delicately painted china and the other of heavy-duty steel. Both were filled with steaming black tea.

Ky smiled with pleasure at the scent of the warm liquid and took a seat across from Potemkin. The other man sat on an over-sized armchair and while it was bigger than a loveseat, it still strained under his great bulk.

Ky folded his hands in his lap. "That's 'Detective Kiske' these days, although you ought to just call me 'Ky.' We've known each other long enough, don't you think?"

"As you wish, Ky, but forgive me if I can't help thinking of you as a Knight."

Ky added a little milk to his tea, relishing the change in color from warm brown to a milky honey.

"Would you like milk, Potemkin?"

The larger man held out his mug, the handle pinched between finger and thumb. "Yes, please. I'm afraid my fingers are too large to pour it from that little thing. I always use more durable steelware, but I thought you might like the china."

Ky nodded. "Tea tastes best when it is served like this." As he sipped his drink, he noted the excellence in both temperature and strength. "It's very good to see you, Potemkin, but as you know I'm here on business, not for pleasure. Will President Gabriel be able to see me soon?"

Potemkin let out a sigh that filled the air like far off thunder. "Actually that's why I'm here, Ky. President Gabriel has been...detained, and I am to act as his liaison. I have been briefed in full and President Gabriel has given me executive power in anything concerning this case. I trust this will not be a problem?"

Ky shook he head. He knew Potemkin to be more than competent and even felt a little relief. Kind and stalwart Potemkin was somehow less imposing than the frail but enigmatic president himself.

Ky began, "So what does Zepp know about the Robo-Kys?"

Potemkin rumbled with laughter. "Always straight to the point, I see. I've always appreciated that about you. But I'm afraid we cannot shed much light on the robots in themselves."

Ky's brow wrinkled with a slight frown. "So the technology of the Robo-Kys is unfamiliar to you?"

Potemkin's gentle smile faded and he carefully set aside his mug of tea. "I would be lying if I said that were true. I've done my own research into these robots, you see, and the truth is that almost two decades ago, one of our top scientists left Zepp. Although his interest lay in genetics and bioengineering, he was on a project to develop artificial intelligence for machines – something similar to your Robo-Kys.

"At the time, his defection was more an annoyance and a blow to Zepp's pride than anything sinister. After all, he was forced to leave all of his notes and data behind, and we believed that Zepp was the only nation in the world with sufficient technology to continue his experiments anyway.

"But last week when I looked into Doctor Francesco's current whereabouts, I found he'd been missing for almost eight years. Before he abandoned his work, he was undoubtedly the closest to creating something as advanced as the Robo-Kys. Of course I have no proof connecting him to those robots or the Postwar Administration Bureau, but having looked through the reports, that is what my instinct tells me."

Ky looked into his tea as he considered this new information. "This organization – the Postwar Administration Bureau – it must have an incredible amount of power to achieve all this while remaining underground."

"Yes, but I wonder if you know the half of it. Tell me, Detective Kiske, how much do you know about the Outrage Project?"

It was an old term that belonged to another age but not one that Ky was likely to forget.

"I know that it was a weapon designed to fight Gears. But the scientists feared such incredible power and created it in parts, each of which is called a Jinki." He rested his hand on his sword. "My Thunderseal is one component, as is the Fireseal, which Sol Badguy stole when he left the Order. The other one entrusted to the Holy Knights was the Melody in Darkness, but that was destroyed during the war. As for the others, they could be anywhere."

When Potemkin gave him a look, Ky hastily added, "Yes, I know it's not a comforting thought, but we can do nothing but hope that the others are in safe-keeping or that the people who have them do not possess the knowledge or power to use such items."

Potemkin gave Ky a weary look. "Zepp too took that attitude toward the Jinki, although more out of practicality than hope since even our technology failed to locate them after the war. But this time I'm afraid both hope and practicality are not enough. About six months ago, the Jinki in Zepp's possession, Flament Nagel, disappeared."

Ky gave the larger man a hard look. "Flament Nagel! I was not aware that Zepp was in possession of that Jinki, or any for that matter."

The former prisoner twisted his lips in an apologetic smile. "Gabriel believed that the fewer people who knew, the better. Of course this ultimately proved ill-advised as we realize now." He met Ky's eyes, which still gleamed with indignation, and added, "But even I wasn't aware of its presence until after the theft. This of course makes its disappearance all the more mysterious, and Zepp has already detained anyone who might have a connection."

Ky set aside his annoyance with Gabriel. There was no point in admonishing Potemkin, especially since they had far greater concerns.

"So you believe that whoever is running the Postwar Administration Bureau not only has your scientist but also Flament Nagel?"

"Highly advanced robots wielding weapons that resemble Jinki just suddenly appear and start attacking people with specialized powers? No, in my mind and in Gabriel's, they must be connected."

Ky stared into his now empty cup. He wouldn't have minded another serving to help stop the pounding in his head, but Potemkin had not brought the pot of tea itself. It didn't help that he was taking the existence of Robo-Kys personally, but their appearance and weapons made him feel responsible for both their actions and their victims.

He looked over at Potemkin and felt his headache return in full force. There was something the other man wasn't saying. With a sigh Ky prepared himself for more bad news.

"There's more, isn't there?"

"I'm afraid so, Detective. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before the IPF starts getting reports, but Zepp Intelligence has begun to locate the kidnapped persons."

"Dead?"

"Sometimes, usually with minimal physical injuries strangely enough. Cause of death has yet to be determined. But more disturbing is the large percentage of them that are alive but brainwashed. They act and speak like the Robo-Kys and seem programmed to capture other victims."

"They're turned into robots?"

Potemkin gave him a rueful smile. "That's a little over dramatic, don't you think? No, they're human, just brainwashed. So far we've had excellent results deprogramming them. However they're being manipulated, it seems temporary and rather crude."

Ky pinched the bridge of his nose, but managed a tired smile. "I suppose we should be grateful for the small things."

"Yes, so long as they don't figure out how to do a better job – something more...permanent."

Ky's smile turned into a grim line, and Sol's words floated through his mind. _They can change their name, but they're still the same bastards they were during the Crusades_. Ky disliked swearing, but somehow "bastards" was the only appropriate word for such people.

He thought of Jam and Baiken and Anji. He thought of all the people that had already been hurt by the Robo-Kys or would be if he were not able to stop them. And he thought of Sol. Somehow Sol was connected to this organization and if he wasn't Ky's ally, then he was an enemy.

_Sol. I'm tired of the pain. I'm tired of the killing. You may think that this world is a joke, but I'm dead serious. This time I'm going to protect everyone. And if you get in my way, if you try to stop me, I won't forgive you. I will do everything in my power to kill you._

Ky met Potemkin's eyes. "That's why I'm going to prevent that."


	8. Hard Times, Fighting Times

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari

**Notes:**  
Sorry for the delay...although now that I'm getting caught up with my latest chapters, I can't promise there won't be anymore o.o;;.

**Chapter 8: Hard Times, Fighting Times**

**

* * *

**

The world was out to get him. This was the only explanation for why Anji was having such a miserable day. It started when the jeep he had bought (well, acquired at any rate), gave out a grinding squeal of protest and rolled to a bumpy halt. After that, no matter what he tried, the car refused to start.

During his time in the Japanese Colony, Anji had read much about cars and those strange metal creations intrigued him since his youth. Having one of his own (well, mostly his own), gave him a sense of joy that he hadn't felt since his first summer festival when he ate the earliest watermelon of the season and watched the fireworks fill the sky.

For almost two weeks he happily made his way from town to town in that plodding but sturdy vehicle and while Anji still took immense pleasure in driving, trying to repair the machine had killed most of his enthusiasm. After spending much of the morning poking through the various tubes and knobby things – he assumed they were part of the engine – he at last declared the battered jeep clinically dead and set off on foot. In hind's sight that was not the brightest decision.

The Mongolian steppe was not only vast – it was vast and sparsely populated. The random village or nomad's camp he hoped to pass by did not present itself and he had no choice but to keep walking, his bag of supplies and provisions bouncing on his back.

This wasn't the problem; the problem was that around mid-afternoon it began to rain. But in all his years Anji had never experienced rain like this. Clouds seemed to materialize out of nothing and the unbroken blue sky turned a nasty shade of gray. The wind, constant and chilly even in these sunny summer days, grew into a roaring howl.

He had only moments to pull out his parka as the sprinkle of raindrops turned into a merciless deluge, the rolling hills offering no protection from the torrent. He could do nothing for the next few hours except huddle next to a stubby tree on an outcrop of rock wait for it to pass.

And although the rain did pass and the sky eventually returned to its innocent guise of cheerful cloudlessness, Anji was left soaked and shivering. His bag also fared badly; some things could dry, but his provisions were waterlogged and his precious maps had become illegible.

In frustration he tossed the soggy paper aside and flopped to the ground. He ought to take off his clothes and let them dry, but his blanket and extra hakama were also soaked. He let out a powerful sneeze that doubled him in half.

Feeling sorry for himself and wishing that someone else was around to feel sorry for him as well, Anji began to prepare for the night. The sun was already beginning to descend and he and his supplies were in no condition to travel. He decided start a fire, dry off before the chill of night and if there was any justice in the world, tomorrow he'd find some friendly hunters that would feed him and help him on his way.

The thought of friendly hunters with food and shelter raised his spirits. He even began to hum despite the cold and soggy fabric pressing against his skin. Months of travel had perfected his ability to set up camp and he bustled about, letting his thoughts drift. As he hammered his tent pegs into the soil, a distant voice made him look up in surprise.

"ANJIMITO."

Squinting over his glasses, Anji peered at the familiar figure standing on the slope of a hill. He was too far away to see distinct features but close enough for Anji to recognize the other's form.

"Chipp! How on earth did you manage to find me!" Anji got to his feet as an elated grin spread across his face. "Never mind that! You have no idea how crappy my day has been. I got this jeep – that's kind of a long story in itself – but then it stopped working so I had to walk and of course there's a thunderstorm. This whole country gets maybe twenty inches a year and I think I just experienced fifteen of them. Do you know how to fix cars?"

The ninja did not answer but Anji was suddenly rolling across the ground, his breath knocked out by a ki blast. By the time Anji could again gasp for air, Chipp was standing next to Anji's supplies. He raised his fists and spread his feet apart into a battle stance as if waiting for Anji to make his move.

"Chipp?"

Although still confused, Anji was prepared for the next attack. When the ninja's blade slashed at his face, he blocked it with the side of his zessen, which he slipped from his sleeve into his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the steel blades fanned out and he slashed downward, sending out of a wave of energy that caused Chipp to stumble back.

"Chipp! What's going on! What are you doing!"

Chipp regained his balance and Anji caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were dull and heavy-lidded where they should have been bright and full of life. He seemed paler than usual and his cheekbones had become more prominent giving him a sickly appearance. Although this was undeniably Chipp, he had changed. This was not the Chipp that he knew.

Chipp's voice confirmed his fears.

"ANJIMITO. JAPANESEFANUSERCONSIDEREDASSETINTHECONTINUATIONOFEXPERIMENT. APPREHENDSUBJECT. ROGER."

Anji gave him a sympathetic look. "Don't worry, Chipp. I'm going to help you." Feeling the pain in his chest, he added with a grimace. "But it may hurt a little."

He did not wait for Chipp to strike again. Instead he charged forward, knowing that if the ninja caught him off guard he'd be finished. Chipp's form flickered as he teleported away. When he reappeared, his feet barely brushed against the ground before he brought his arm blade forward and prepared to attack. Anji was not worried – once they started moving, his fans could stop any attack.

Chipp leapt into the air over Anji's head. Although he managed to avoid the steel tips of the fan blades, Anji had enough time to recover and block the leg Chipp brought down on his head. With the deadly edge of his fan, he slashed across Chipp's chest while the other man tried to recover. The other twisted before it could connect and Anji hit nothing but an afterimage. Chipp jumped out of the fans' range with a back flip.

It was as Anji suspected – if he held back, he would die. Anji had no choice but to fight to kill. He could only hope that the blow that finished Chipp wasn't a fatal one. _Sorry, my friend. Forgive me if I can't save you._

Anji let himself fall into the rhythm of his dance, and the blades spun around him with each twist of his torso. Chipp did not block but again teleported over his head. The whirling fan mostly blocked the ninja's strike, but Anji still felt steel glance into his left arm and back. As pain shot up through his shoulder, he twisted and slashed at his attacker, but Chipp was too close and he only backhanded the ninja with his knuckles.

Chipp skidded back, his head flung to one side, and Anji had time to readjust his balance. The hit had split open the skin and his knuckles stung in the cold wind. Anji regretted not accepting Baiken's offers to train with her. Only now did he realize how out of practice he had become. Since the Knight's tournament, he had done nothing more than fend off various lowlife thugs whom he encountered in his travels. Certainly he had not faced anyone at Chipp's level.

Eyes narrowed, Anji returned to his guard position. Chipp was assessing him, a bruise forming on his pale temple and blood trickling from his eye. The miscalculated hit must have hurt Chipp more than it hurt Anji yet the ninja did not seem to notice. Instead he prepared for another attack, and his arm blade clicked into place as he crouched low to the ground. With a burst of speed, he dashed forward to slide tackle Anji, but the fan user expected such an attack.

Rather than block, he brought his fans forward. He struck at the empty air, knowing that if he saw Chipp, it would already be too late. Indeed his fans connected with something before Anji even saw the blur of motion. Chipp, unable to stop the attack, hit the fans at top speed and Anji felt the blades tear into flesh. A spray of blood filled the air in front of him, and the ninja crashed to the side, bouncing along the grass and leaving a trail of sticky red on the tall grass.

Anji's eyes widened with concern but he did not lower his guard. Chipp lay still, and for a moment Anji wondered if the blow had been fatal. But then the ninja shifted and pushed himself to his feet. There were lacerations across his arms and chest, and although the black shirt hid most of the damage, his pale arms and white pants were stained with red. He seemed to wobble, barely able to stand, but his eyes remained blank and unconcerned.

Anji took a hesitant step forward. "Chipp, you have to stop. You're going to die."

But Chipp did not listen and unleashed a wave of ki as fast and as strong as if he were uninjured. The projectile shot out as an energy-form of Chipp and hit Anji before he could raise his fans to block.

For an instant, his whole body felt engulfed in a sea of electricity as the force of the ki shot through him and created a wave of agony. Every muscle in his body began to spasm and only the force of the ki kept him from falling. Anji saw Chipp's attack but he could do nothing but watch as the other rammed a fist, also engulfed in energy, into his stomach.

Pain exploded in his stomach as the strike pushed him back. Although no longer stunned, he was too off-balance and his feet slipped. Even as he crumpled to the ground, Chipp continued his assault. Punches too fast for Anji to follow hit him across the chest and legs. The blows, while weak, were excruciating and even after the hits stopped, their power sizzled through him.

Anji only had a moment to regain control of his body before Chipp delivered a final uppercut under Anji's jaw. His whole face seemed to rattle and blackness engulfed his vision. Time seemed to stop as red and black exploded through his skull and the world became nothing but pain ringing in his head as it bounced along the ground like that of a rag doll's.

But when time at last lurched forward, the blackness passed and Anji could again open his eyes. Although he had stopped rolling, the world continued to spin and he felt bloody bile rise in his throat. His limbs were heavy – too heavy to move – but survival instinct told him he didn't have a choice.

He flexed his fingers. He had managed to hold onto his fans since the jolt of ki had made his hands curl so tightly that spasms still ran through his muscles in protest. He pushed himself to his knees and spat out the blood that had begun to fill his mouth. His whole jaw ached and some of his teeth seemed to wobble as if not properly connected.

He looked up through the hair and blood that now dripped into his eyes. Although the world was blurry – his glasses knocked aside in the attack – Anji could make out the figure of Chipp standing at a distance. He seemed to assess Anji as if to determine whether he was capable of further resistance.

Anji pushed himself to his feet. Although the blow to his head made balance difficult and pain now affected his whole body, he raised his fans in a fighting stance. It was both a defense and a challenge.

Anji didn't want to die, and capture would most likely mean death. And even if it meant killing Chipp, Anji wanted to live. More than anything he wanted to live. It was the same selfishness that drove him to find that man – perhaps it even drove him to follow Baiken. He fought for his own reasons, for his own truths, and he could not give either up for anything. He would offer prayers to Chipp and hope that the other would understand and forgive.

Anji gathered the power within him.

As Chipp dashed forward, Anji raised his fans as energy coursed through the blades. Once the blades began to spin, they would unleash a volley of attacks that never failed to kill an opponent. Another step and the fans would engulf Chipp and then –

Anji looked into the other's lifeless eyes. He wanted to live, but this was Chipp. This was his friend. He lowered his arms for a fraction of a second, and that was enough time for Chipp's punch to land. His fist struck Anji across the face.

Everything turned red and Anji again flew backward. It took another moment to realize he was lying on the ground, by some miracle his jaw still attached. And then Chipp was on top of him, his hands around Anji's neck as his thumbs pressed into his windpipe.

Through a haze of pain, Anji brushed his hands along the ground but he could not find the fans that had slipped from his grip. Chipp's hands kept his head from turning and with each passing moment, movement became more difficult. He could only look into those expressionless eyes that would kill him without anger or regret.

His hands clamped around Chipp's wrist as the other tightened his grip. Black spots filled his vision and he began to concentrate on them rather than the person trying to kill him. He knew he couldn't afford to let go but his strength was fading and his hands growing weak. He could feel his grasp slipping and his arms begin to fall.

And then there was a great black bird hovering over them, its roar, almost drowned out by the pounding of his heart, a distant hum in Anji's ears. Chipp's grip eased a little and Anji's vision began to clear. He could see something falling from the bird. Something with wings that streaked toward the ground like a falcon swooping on its prey. In his barely conscious state, Anji recalled his grandmother's stories about Japan's mythical creatures – tales of oni and tengu and the yuki-onna. Perhaps these tales were coming to life and now some sort of avenging demon had appeared.

A pink demon.

Baiken? 

Chipp removed his hands from Anji's throat and rose to his feet. Anji took the opportunity to roll onto his side and succumb to a fit of coughing.

"BAIKENSEISHINO. PRESENCEALSOREQUIREDFORTHECONTINUATIONOFEXPERIMENT. APPREHENDALONGWITHANJIMITO. ROGER."

Now that he could breathe, Anji's vision began to clear, and he pushed himself to his knees. Baiken was indeed standing before them, a helicopter coming to land a little ways behind her. He must be popular today.

Baiken was speaking. Although her words were soft, the wind carried them and magnified every syllable so that it seemed she was almost speaking in his ear.

"Chipp, I know this ain't your fault, but I don't give a fuck. I'm gonna kick your ass."

And then they were fighting.

Ninja and warrior became a blur of black and pink. Anji's eyes could scarcely follow as Chipp darted around her blade, attacking from every possible angle, even as Baiken countered each strike. Neither was able to land a blow, and if Anji hadn't been lying on the ground half-dead, he would have been impressed.

A sudden bolt of lightning caused Chipp to jump back, and Anji looked up to see a man in white running toward the fray.

"Chipp Zanuff! You are under arrest! Please surrender peacefully!"

Chipp looked up and seemed to assess his opponent.

"KYKISKE. FORMERHOLYKNIGHTCOMMANDER. DONOTENGAGEUNTILTHECOMPLETIONOFEXPERIMENT. RETREATISADVISED. ROGER."

And then he disappeared, leaving Anji with Baiken as the strange young man approached, the helicopter's blades still whirring in the background.

Anji took a moment to collect himself then rose to his feet. His fans were on the ground a few feet away and he limped over to collect them. Baiken watched as he picked up the weapons and slid them under his sleeves. It was only when he looked her in the eye that she stomped over, the fury and frustration clearly visible on her face.

"Mito, what the fuck are you doing in Mongolia?"

"Ahaha." Anji couldn't help a nervous laugh and he half-stated, half-questioned, "Looking for you?"

Baiken expression said she wanted to smack him, and he hoped his injuries appeared painful enough that she wouldn't.

"You dumb shit." Her hand shot out and she gripped him by the neck. Her fingers twitched as if she couldn't decide whether she wanted to strangle him or shake him by the scruff of his neck. "You stupid asshole. I can't stand how dumb you are. I can't stand it!"

Her voice wavered and he noticed a slight tremor ran through her fingers and down through his skin. He placed a gentle hand on top of hers. Her hand was not soft but callused and scarred from the many years of difficult life. Even so he could feel warmth beneath the rough skin, and to him her solid warrior's hands were more beautiful than his own elegant fingers.

A feeling rushed through him, strong enough that it almost knocked him off his feet. Somehow he managed to stay standing even as the pain in his shoulder and jaw subsided, lost beneath this burst of emotion. It was true that he'd been infatuated from the moment they met, but this was deeper – stronger.

He loved her and whatever she thought about him, he would protect her. He would show her warmth and kindness until she was whole again.

Anji met her single eye and smiled, unable to hide the radiance of his sudden joy. "I'm sorry. Maybe I'll become smarter when I'm older." He gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance.

Baiken seemed to notice their nearness and pulled away with an uncertain look. Her eye flickered between his face and the ground. With a sharp twist she turned her back to him so that he could see the little curls of pink hair that sprung out from the base of her head. He couldn't take his eyes of those little tufts of hair and the curve of her neck.

She collected herself and at last spoke, her voice again calm and detached, "Yeah, well I guess I hafta baby-sit you until then."

She took a few steps away as the man in white approached. Anji remembered Chipp's strange words and he took a closer look at the guy. Although he had never seen a Holy Knight, the man's uniform was consistent with the descriptions he had read, and the name "Ky Kiske" was familiar to anyone interested in the history of the Crusades.

He came up to Anji and extended his hand. He wore a polite smile that was entirely too modest for the former Commander of the Sacred Order. "Anji Mito? I am Detective Ky Kiske of the International Police Force. Pleased to meet you."

Anji shook the offered hand and grinned. "Nice to meet you, Detective Kiske. I suppose this means I'm under arrest?"

Ky looked flustered – he probably was not used to his charm failing to work on people. If the stories were true he was barely over twenty, and for all his maturity he looked his age. Commander or no, Anji found himself thinking of the other as a kid and couldn't help poking fun at him.

"You misunderstand me, Mr. Mito. This incident only proves that your life is in danger outside of the Japanese Colony. I am here with Baiken Seishino to offer you protection."

Anji rubbed the back of his neck as he laughed with nervousness. "Ehehe, just 'Anji' is fine. You make me sound like an old man. Are you going to try and send us back to the Colony? If so I'll tell you right now that I'm not leaving until I know Chipp is safe. I don't know what's going on, but something bad must have happened to him. The Chipp I know would never attack me like that."

"The IPF is aware of the situation with Chipp Zanuff. He is one of the many to have been kidnapped and brainwashed over the course of the last seven months. We are doing everything in our power to help him."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean me and Anji are gonna turn our backs on him." Until now Baiken had been silent, content to gauge Anji's reactions from a distance. Now she approached and glared at Ky. Although shorter than the detective, she managed to look down on him – it was a trick she often used on Anji and Chipp.

She continued, "That kid may be dumb, but it pisses me off that someone's fucking with him. And if you or that police force gets in my way..." She did not need to finish her threat.

Nevertheless Ky stood his ground and he merely nodded. "Although I am well within my authority to send you both back to the Japanese Colony, I have no wish to coerce you. Please consider yourselves my guests until we recover Chipp Zanuff."

Anji couldn't hide his amusement. "Guests, eh? You have such polite words for unpleasant things, Detective Kiske."

Ky gave him an apologetic smile that said he understood the other's concern, but his voice did not soften. "You are not prisoners of the IPF if that is what you mean, although it would put me in a very difficult situation if you were to leave. Still, perhaps I can be of some use to you. After all, my men located you. Perhaps we will have more success locating Zanuff than you and Baiken on your own."

"It's true, Mito." Baiken said. She did not sound pleased, but she nevertheless accepted Ky's wisdom. "The truth is that I'd never have found you without his help."

Anji considered her words and tried not to grin at the implication that she had been looking for him. Forcing his mind to stay on task, he turned to face Ky and asked, "So how did you find me? I thought I did a good job of covering my tracks."

He took pride in his ability to move freely through the world despite his Japanese heritage. While he didn't mind if Baiken or Chipp found him, having this foreigner – French by his accent – track him down made Anji uneasy.

Baiken rolled her eye. "Ch'. Cocky as ever. That jeep you stole a few weeks back belongs to some government big shot. Not only that but a witness saw you taking it so there's a pretty good description of you out there. It was easy enough for this copper to find you. Guess it was also easy for the Postwar Administration Bureau."

"Postwar Administration Bureau?"

Ky nodded. "It's probably the group who brainwashed Chipp Zanuff. Unfortunately we don't know very much about who is controlling it. It seems to be an organization not affiliated with any particular government, although it's power and resources seems widespread."

Anji gave him a hesitant look. "So...Chipp? Will he be all right?"

Ky's face grew more serious in a strange contrast to his youthful appearance. Maybe he wasn't as much of a child as Anji had thought. "Rescuing him is my top priority. And I think I know someone who can help."

* * *

"Ah? Last sighted in Mongolia three days ago? I see, I see. How very exciting for you. I'm sorry to say that I'm rather busy with my own business, so I...ah? Postwar Administration Bureau, you say? 

"I suppose I have time to look into it, although can you really accept help from a lowly pirate like myself? Hmhm. Yes, that's very true, Detective Kiske. Truly talking to you is as delightful as ever. Au revoir!"

Johnny ended the communication with a lazy flick of his finger. The radio went silent but he continued to study the face displayed on the computer's monitor. He scrolled through the data transmitted by Ky Kiske, skimming through it with a lazy yawn.

It wasn't often that Ky asked for his help. That he placed Dizzy into Johnny's care showed his trust in the captain of the May Ship, but Ky made a point not to condone Johnny's actions as a Jellyfish Pirate. Although the pirate rather enjoyed teasing Kiske, their friendship – if it could even be called that – was strained under the best of circumstances.

This Chipp Zanuff must be particularly elusive for Ky to ask him for help. That the Postwar Administration Bureau had taken him as one of their experiments also intrigued Johnny. Although the Robo-Kys had yet to attack him or his crew, the reports he managed to collect caught his attention. Sooner or later he'd have to deal with that threat.

Without warning the ship's alarms began to ring. Johnny stood up as wariness replaced all traces of boredom. He arched an eyebrow as April's voice called out to him through the speaker.

"Johnny! There's an intruder! He's on the main deck and May is...he's too fast! We can't stop him! Johnny, you have to –"

The voice crackled and cut out, replaced by static. Johnny picked up his hat and sword as he strode to the door. When he walked into the hallway, he heard a tentative female voice behind him.

"Johnny...what's going on?"

Johnny stopped to put on his hat and pull out a pair of sunglasses. "It seems we have an unwanted guest." He turned to face the girl, pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Wait here, Dizzy. I'll take care of everything."

After a moment Dizzy gave a worried nod, uncertainty mingled with relief. Johnny's face twisted into an unconcerned smile as he turned around and began to climb the ladder leading to the ship's deck.

Sword in hand, he pushed the hatch open and rose up into the chill wind. The ship was at cruising altitude, so the thin air blew with violent ferocity. Johnny clapped his hat on his head as he scanned the deck. How an intruder managed to sneak abroad without detection was anyone's guess. Whoever he was, he had guts for messing with the Jellyfish Pirates.

Johnny caught sight of two figures lying prone by the May Ship's wing. With care he made his way to the bodies. July and Augus were crumpled on the ground, the ship's surface around them scorched and dented with the marks of the struggle. When he crouched over them, he could see that they were battered and unconscious but alive.

"PIRATEJOHNNYYOUAREWANTEDBYTHEPOSTWARADMINISTRATIONBUREAU. PLEASESURRENDERPEACEFULLY. YOUWILLNOTBEHARMED."

He did not hear the sound of footsteps over the wind, but the voice remained clear and distinct. Johnny rose and turned to face the mysterious attacker.

"Oh? You're already here?"

The man was easily recognizable – his albino hair and eyes were unique enough and although he now seemed more lifeless, he closely resembled the picture Ky Kiske had sent Johnny. He held May – unconscious but seemingly unharmed – under his arm.

Johnny lowered his hand to his sword's hilt as he tightened his grip. "I suppose it's good to be punctual but you'll never attract women that way. Now come. Let's see what's faster – you or my blade."

Chipp Zanuff's eyes did not change, but he tilted his head as if considering Johnny's words. He let May slip out of his grip, and she hit the ground with an unpleasant _thunk_. The ninja brought his hands up into fists and widened his stance.

"VERYWELL."

Chipp attacked.


	9. Ninja and Pirates

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari

**Chapter 9: Ninja and Pirates**

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* * *

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Chipp's eyes held no pity and gleamed cold and merciless. He was almost inhuman, but May faced him with defiance. Even in the face of danger she would not give up – not when her crew was in danger. As a Jellyfish Pirate she had to protect everyone, and as long as people depended on her, she would do her best.

"I'm warning you! One more step and..." Chipp tightened his grip on the hostage to emphasize his threat.

May's eyes widened and for a moment her resolve almost failed. Her gaze flickered from the ninja to her captured friend, who remained trapped in the other's arms. Never before did she have to hold back when fighting and it gave her a sinking feeling to see a comrade in danger.

But her expression shifted from one of worry to that of indignation. She balled her hands into fists, which trembled with growing fury.

"Meanie! Let 'im go!" She screamed and stepped forward.

Chipp sneered; he had been waiting for this moment.

"I warned ya, you stupid brat! Super Ninja Piledriver Technique!"

"Mister Dolphin! Nooooooo!"

Her screams fell on uncaring ears as Chipp threw the hostage onto the bed. Using his entire body weight, he slammed his elbow into its soft underbelly. The dolphin plushy folded in half under the force of the blow as even the bed creaked from the pressure. Although about to burst at the seams, the dolphin's stitched smile remained fixed and cheerful. And while it did not mind the abuse, its owner let out an inconsolable wail of despair.

"Doooooooolphiiiiiiiin!"

"Mwahahahah—oof!" An anchor in his face interrupted Chipp's cackle of triumph.

The anchor made a resounding thud, and he flew back into the cabin's wall, the dolphin slipping from his fingers. The wood paneling splintered under the combined weight of man and anchor, and Chipp remained pressed into the indentation until the anchor fell down and he at last slid to the floor.

He twitched like a squished cockroach as May, the animal safely tucked under her arm, hauled the anchor back onto her shoulder. She regarded the now-broken ninja with a look halfway between curious and apologetic.

"Oops?"

Chipp rubbed his face until the numbness passed and he again had feeling. He gave the girl an angry glare then jumped to his feet with remarkable speed.

"Is that all you gotta say!" Chipp growled as he took May into a headlock. When she began to squirm, he tightened his hold. "'Oops?' You just hit a cripple in the face! I could have died, you know! And here I was, tryin' to be nice and come play with you like you asked.

"Brat, what did I tell ya? What did I freaking tell ya about fightin' fair? No hair pulling, no biting, no kicks to the nads and No. Freaking. Anchors!"

With that Chipp knocked off her pirate hat and gave the girl a ferocious noogie. May let out a squeal of dismay, dropping her anchor as she flailed. As she wiggled in his grasp, she balled her fists and began to punch at random.

He held her close enough that most of the hits landed light and ineffective, but a stray one struck Chipp under the chin, and his neck snapped back. As his jaw slammed shut with a painful snap, he loosened his grip, and May turned around and kicked him several times in the shins. Chipp stumbled backward as she smacked him across the face with the ever-smiling dolphin.

Although Chipp still wore bandages from his previous fights, he had the strength to catch her dolphin-wielding arm and shove it out of the way. Letting out a savage battle cry, Chipp launched himself at the girl. With deft skill and speed he avoided her kicks and pivoted behind May then took the moment of her vulnerability to begin his counterattack. As May tried to turn around, he unleashed a wave of tickling.

Unable to defend herself from such an onslaught, May dissolved into hysterical laughter and dropped the stuffed animal. Soon her knees gave way and she collapsed to the floor, but however much she flopped and rolled, wiggled and wobbled, Chipp did not let up. Only when she ceased struggling and lay still, twitching and gasping for breath, did he release her.

Tears of mirth streamed down her cheeks and the occasional hiccup still escaped her throat as the victorious ninja rose to his feet. Chipp admired his handiwork and wiped his hands in satisfaction. A confident smirk lit his face and he pointed a condescending finger at his opponent. "You're weak!"

A titter of laughter came through the cabin door, and Chipp spun around with a start. Dizzy stood in the doorway, hiding her laughter behind a pale hand. She dressed like a Jellyfish Pirate, hair in pigtails and tucked under a bandanna. Her shirt and shorts were cropped to allow room for her wings and tail, and except for these inhuman appendages, she looked like any other pirate onboard the May Ship.

It was still something of a shock to see the second Commander Gear alive, but her quiet gentleness differed from the rage and loneliness Chipp had seen in Justice the day she died. Dizzy with her kind eyes was something else entirely and despite her awesome power, she held no malice toward humanity.

This compassionate nature softened any hard feelings Chipp might have had when he recognized her as the strange girl he fought in the forest. Their previous encounter had been brief and painful but now that he understood Dizzy's circumstances, he could regard her without fear.

Chipp rubbed the back of his head as a goofy grin formed on his face. "How long have you been standing there?"

She looked up at him with her own red eyes, a deeper and more feral shade than his albino eyes, and her smile became teasing. "Oh, about the time you got hit in the face with that anchor."

Chipp's smile turned sickly then faded into a scowl. He craned his neck to glare at May, who had just managed to sit up and now wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Ch'. She's such a brat."

May stuck out her tongue at him and Dizzy smiled with satisfaction, saying, "I'm just so glad that you two are getting along."

Chipp felt himself flush with chagrin. Although that Robo-Ky had controlled his actions, there was no excuse for harming a child – even if that child had a very large anchor and an army of dolphins. Over the past ten days that he remained on the May Ship, the crew not only forgave him for his attack but also gained a strange affection for him. May and March, the youngest crewmember, especially enjoyed his company and adopted him as a new plaything – much to Johnny's amusement. And despite the injuries he inflicted on May, she held no resentment or suspicion.

May looked up at Dizzy, "Why wouldn't we get along? I only lost because I was too busy thinking about Johnny. And anyway, Johnny beat him up for me and then bought me a pretty bracelet! He's so kind and wonderful, maybe he'll get me matching earrings!"

Chipp narrowed his eyes. Although he felt gratitude toward Johnny for removing the Robo-Ky program from his mind, the pirate irritated Chipp. He hated the other's playboy attitude and the fact that so many pretty women surrounded this one man only fueled said hatred. As Anji would have groaned, there was no justice in the world.

As he crossed his arms, Chipp sneered, "That fruitcake? I only lost 'cuz I was injured. Who the hell fights in sunglasses anyway?"

"Take that back!" May stamped her foot in frustration and her lips formed an indignant pout. "How dare you talk about the Great and Magnificent Johnny like that! You're just a second-rate ninja who beats up girls!"

"Second-rate! I'll show you second rate, you stupid brat!"

As they turned to glare at each other, one step from renewing their tussle, Dizzy coughed politely. Chipp and May both looked up, their hands curled into fists.

Dizzy spoke with hesitance, "Actually Chipp, your presence is requested in the wardroom. Johnny has a guest who wants to meet you – Ky Kiske of the International Police Force."

Suspicion flickered through Chipp's eyes. "A copper? What the hell's he doing here?"

May nodded, for once in agreement with the ninja. "Yeah. Stupid coppers!"

Dizzy gave May a reproachful look but she spoke with patience. "Johnny knows him; I think they're friends. Don't you remember that Mr. Kiske was the one who brought me here?" She looked over at Chipp. "Please Chipp, I've met him before and he's not a bad person. I'm sure he wouldn't arrest you or harm you in any way."

Having spoken she put on such a hopeful and naive smile that Chipp let out a sigh of defeat. She was too damn cute for her own good.

"All right sister, I'll go meet the fuzz. But if there's trouble, it ain't my fault!"

Dizzy nodded her thanks as he moved toward the door. When he picked up his arm blade – she hadn't said anything about going unarmed –and snapped it into place, Dizzy gave him a pointed look of disapproval but remained quiet. For her part May realized playtime with Chipp had ended, and she let out a sad sigh. She flopped on the bed and rolled around in boredom before giving her stuffed animal a look and tossing it on a chair.

She propped her chin on a hand. "Hey Dizzy, will you play dress up with me?"

Dizzy gave May a warm smile. "Of course, May. Let's pick out really nice things that will impress Johnny."

"Impress Johnny? Yay!"

Chipp rolled his eyes at her excited bouncing but kept any snide remarks about Johnny under his breath. Dizzy seemed to notice his annoyance and gave him an encouraging look as he opened the door.

"Good luck, Chipp!"

"Yeah. Luck. Thanks." He looked at May who was already opening her heavy trunk full of costumes and trinkets. He nodded to her. "See ya, kid. Stay out of trouble while I'm gone."

May waved distractedly at Chipp. "Bye-bye! Let's play some more tomorrow!"

As the ninja moved into the hallway, the door swung shut and cut off the sound of May's giggles and Dizzy's patient suggestions. With another sigh Chipp began to trudge down the corridor and to the wardroom.

* * *

Johnny and the detective were already waiting in the wardroom when Chipp arrived. He found the two men hunched over some files, and although they kept their voices low, they were clearly not in agreement. When Chipp stepped through the door, Ky Kiske looked up as his companion closed the folder and replaced it on a shelf. 

Kiske moved forward and extended his hand in polite greeting. "Mr. Zanuff, I am Detective Ky Kiske of the International Police Force. We met briefly before, but I do not know how much you remember."

Chipp exchanged looks with Johnny. Although he didn't care for the pirate's company, Johnny was preferable to some policeman. Johnny seemed to understand Chipp's unspoken question and gave him a nod – he'd back up Chipp if Kiske tried anything...coppish.

Somewhat reassured Chipp shrugged but did not accept the offered hand. "I remember enough."

After a moment Kiske let his hand drop to his side. His eyes flickered to Johnny before returning to regard Chipp with an uncertain look. Although Chipp's coldness made him uneasy, Ky recovered and spoke in a thoughtful voice.

"I see. Then you know that you are a target of the Postwar Administration Bureau."

"Yeah." Chipp tipped his head toward Johnny. "He mentioned something like that." Scratching the back of his head, Chipp flopped into one of the seats around the table. "But I don't get it. Who the hell are they and why'd they attack me? And why did that robot look like you anyways? He wore the same clothes and everything."

As he leaned back, he gave the detective a suspicious look as if daring Ky to deny the similarities. Ky did not argue but lowered his eyes, his face neutral. If he felt flustered by Chipp's accusations, he did not show it. Instead he moved around the table and pulled up a chair for himself.

Once seated, Ky continued in an even voice, "The IPF is currently investigating the situation of the Robo-Kys. At the moment we can only assume that they, like the Postwar Administration Bureau, have some connection to the Holy Knight's Tournament in which you and I both participated. They also seem to target ki-users like yourself, which is why your safety concerns me."

Dismissing Ky's concern with a wave, Chipp replied, "Yeah, yeah. I was in the tournament, using ki and shit. And now that I think about it, I must've seen you around too. But hold on. Did you say 'Robo-Kys' as in Robot Kys or something? Like you but a robot?"

Ky nodded. He had explained the metal creations so many times that he no longer felt embarrassed about the name. "Our information says that is their code name. It is probably because their programming is based on my fighting techniques used in that tournament."

Chipp sat up as he considered this. His eyes assessed Ky and he began to mentally reevaluate the other man. He wondered how much the detective would resemble a Robo-Ky in a fight.

"How many of 'em are there?"

"I am afraid, Mr. Zanuff, that we cannot determine that at this time. Suffice to say, they are most likely intended for mass production if they have not already been so, which is why it is imperative that –"

Chipp's eyes lit up with rage and he stood up so quickly that his chair almost fell over. "Mass-fucking-produced! There're whole armies of those bastards!"

"Yes, Mr. Zanuff, which is why –"

Chipp began to pace up and down the small room as he bristled with indignation.

"Assholes! That Postwar whatever-group has gone too far! If they think they can fuck with me, they've got another thing coming. Hey, copper, where the hell is this group? Where are they making those fucking Robo-Kys, because I got a little business to attend to."

Johnny, silent until now, let out an abrupt laugh. "Heh. I told you, Detective Kiske. This guy's got more of a one-track mind than me. You might as well try to reason with a spoiled kid than get him to do anything."

Both Chipp and Ky gave him a simultaneous glare, but when Ky opened his mouth to speak, Chipp interrupted him, "What'd you say, pimp-boy? You call me a kid just now? You wanna see what this kid can do when he's not brain-washed?"

Chipp's growing rage flustered Ky, but he refused to let the discussion degenerate into a squabble. The detective rose from his seat and moved to stand between the two men, who regarded each other with dangerous looks.

Giving the smirking pirate an exasperated look, Ky begged, "Mr. Johnny, please." He turned to Chipp who still glared. "And you too, Mr. Zanuff. I ask for your cooperation in this matter."

Now the glare turned on Ky, and suspicion joined the anger in his eyes as Chipp spoke in an increasingly furious voice, "Cooperation? What makes you think I like you anymore than I like the fucking Postwar Administration Bureau? You cops ain't any better than them in my mind. You're also just fucking with everybody, and what's worse you pretend you're doing good.

"But all I see is you keeping the rich, rich and the poor, poor. There's nothin' good about it. You don't give a shit about justice. You just wanna make sure everybody stays in line, and as long as the people lining your wallets are happy, y'all are happy!"

"Here, here." Johnny said in a wry voice, but both Chipp and Ky ignored him.

Ky sympathized with what Chipp's frustration at the failures of so-called justice, but he saw no advantage in discussing the point. Chipp was too belligerent to listen to Ky's explanations, and the detective had more urgent issues than justifying himself to an angry kid. He instead brushed off the insults and spoke in even tone.

"Mr. Zanuff –"

"Call me Chipp."

"Mr. Chipp –"

"Just Chipp."

"Fine. Chipp." Ky gritted his teeth. "As much as I'd like to debate this matter, _Chipp_, the truth is that the International Police Force is the only organization that can offer any sort of protection to you and your Japanese friends, Anji Mito and Baiken Seishino. Until we are able to locate and neutralize the Postwar Administration Bureau, you are in danger. And unless you come with me, I cannot guarantee your safety against a second brainwashing –"

"Hey, fuck you!" Chipp took a step forward and Ky became very aware of the blade attached to his wrist. Although he noticed the weapon as soon as Chipp entered the room, he dismissed the possibility of the other man attacking him on Johnny's vessel. Now he was not so certain.

Chipp continued in an angry voice, but he remained in place. "That was an accident and I don't need your fucking guarantees to –"

For the first time Ky cut him off in a curt voice. "As I was saying, Chipp, I ask that you accept the protection of the IPF. Not just for your own sake, but for the sake of those around you. You may not like the idea of me protecting you, but I'm also here to protect the others including Anji Mito and May. Surely you can appreciate my concern about their safety when people with your abilities can be brainwashed into attacking them."

Chipp opened his mouth to argue, but his eyes met Ky's own gaze. This time Ky matched him glare for glare, refusing to back down. Silence descended in the room except for the hum of the air ship's engines, which vibrated throughout the vessel. Ky kept his eyes on Chipp even though he felt Johnny staring at the back of his head. The detective had no way of knowing where the pirate would stand if a fight did break out between them.

A heavy sigh, part anger and part frustration, at last escaped Chipp's lips and broke the tense silence. He lowered his eyes as his expression turned from one of hostility to defeated acceptance. When he managed to look up and meet Ky's gaze, he regarded the detective with something close to respect.

"Hn. I look out for the people I care about. Mito's my best friend, you know, and May's a real nice kid. I'd beat the shit out of anyone who fucked with that brat."

"And yet, my dear Zanuff, it was you who 'fucked with that brat' as you so eloquently put it." Johnny's voice was low and teasing and while it held no malice, there was a dangerous undertone that suggested all had not entirely been forgiven.

Chipp became defensive, but quickly looked away as his expression turned guilty.

"Yeah, I know." He looked back at Ky. The anger had subsided, and for the first time since he entered the room, Chipp appeared resigned. "Where are Baiken and Anji? They with you too?"

Ky shook his head. "No, they refused to return to headquarters, but they have agreed to reside in a safe house for the meantime."

Chipp seemed to consider their decision as he absently rapped his fingers on the table. At last he decided, "Okay. I'll go where they are. I ain't hanging around cops unless I have company. That gonna work or do I need extra special babysitting from you?"

Except for a small smile, Ky ignored the sarcasm. "I think it is acceptable if you join Mr. Mito and Miss Seishino. It is easier for me to coordinate if you stay together, and perhaps there will be 'safety in numbers' as they say." He did not add that the thought of Chipp stuck in the station was as unpleasant for Ky as it was for the ninja.

With a curt nod, Chipp agreed. "Fine. So I'll chill with Baiken and Mito. I suppose I'll get a ride there or do I have to walk?"

"Although I am needed at IPF headquarters, Johnny has graciously agreed to drop you off near the city. I'll arrange for an escort to take you to the actual location."

The suspicion returned to Chipp's eyes. "You know that if this is some stupid attempt to arrest me, I'm gonna kick your ass."

Ky's face was serious but a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Believe me, Chipp. I don't want to arrest you any more than you want to be arrested."

"Well...as long as those guys don't start nothing, there won't be any trouble." He moved past Ky toward the door, but stopped when he put his hand on the doorknob. His voice was almost hesitant as he asked, "So how soon are we going to land?"

Johnny answered before Ky could. "Ky has asked for three or four days to make preparations, so we'll land on Wednesday morning."

Chipp shrugged without any apparent concern. He swung open the door but turned to face the other men as he stepped into the corridor.

"Hey Johnny."

"Hm?"

"I owe you one. You saved me from that Robo-Ky and took me in even after I hurt May, so I'm in yer debt." He looked past Johnny sunglasses and met the other's eyes to emphasize his next words. "And I always pay in full."

Johnny nodded. Although an easy smile remained on his lips, he recognized the gravity of the other's words and answered in a serious tone, "I'll keep that in mind."

Chipp nodded before looking at Ky. The detective kept his expression polite as the other regarded him with look more wary than friendly. After a moment Chipp gave a quick jerk of his head then hurried through the open door. Neither Johnny nor Ky moved until the door snicked closed.

At the sound of the click, Johnny let out an amused laugh and flipped his ponytail with a careless gesture. "You know, I think I actually like him when he keeps his mouth shut." When Ky allowed himself a chuckle, Johnny continued in a tone of exasperation, "What an unpredictable fellow."

Ky smiled. "Oh? He's actually quite simple, I think."

The captain of the May Ship arched an eyebrow. "You're one to talk. I thought it was going to come to blows for a moment there."

"But it didn't, Mr. Johnny, did it?" Ky took a seat in a nearby chair before he continued. "Zanuff's kind is not so difficult to deal with as long as you're careful. They have to be handled in a certain way or else they'll never listen to reason."

Johnny picked up the reports they were studying before Chipp's arrival and dropped them back on the table. "Hmph. You act as if you have a lot of experience with this sort of thing."

Ky picked up one of the papers and flipped to his current place before looking back at the pirate. "Mr. Johnny, as the leader of the Holy Knights I dealt with much worse than Chipp Zanuff. Although his temper and foul mouth make conversation unpleasant, I believe he has a genuinely good heart. He's not nearly so bad that I'd lose my temper because of him."

Johnny leaned against the table and widened his grin. "What's this? The great Ky Kiske can lose his temper? That is something I must see to believe."

Ky gave the other a tight smile that did not reach his eyes. "I'm afraid it's not nearly as exciting as it sounds. Now where were we?"

They returned to cross-referencing data in their search for the Postwar Administration Bureau.

* * *

Chipp sat on deck as the May Ship descended into a field some distance from the nearest settlement. April made an excellent pilot and he felt hardly more than a bump as several thousand tons of air ship came to rest on the ground. 

Once the engines stopped roaring, he rose to his feet and slung his small pack of belongings onto his shoulder. One of the crew put a gangplank into place and as he made his way toward it, he saw Johnny standing by the railing along with May, Dizzy and March.

Chipp casually ruffled March's hair as he approached and she beamed up at him, penguin stuffed animal held tight in her arms. "Hey kiddo." He looked over at May. "Hey brat."

May sulked. "Don't call me that!"

He merely smirked as Dizzy took a step forward. She wore an expression of concern that made Chipp flush a little. "We came to give you one last goodbye. I hope your wounds will be okay."

"Yeah, they're doing great thanks to you." Chipp gave a nervous grin. "Actually Dizzy, I want you to have this. You know, as thanks and all that."

He pulled out a limp origami flower from his pack. The paper was more crumpled than crisp and because the edges did not line up, white showed between the beautiful red and purple paper. As he set it in her delicate hands, the paper creation seemed to sag even more pathetically, and Chipp regarded it with chagrin. He poked at it but that didn't seem to help.

Despite his disappointment, Dizzy was delighted, and her shy smile blossomed into something more radiant. She cupped the little flower as if it were fragile and precious and brought it to her chest in reverence.

"Oh Chipp, it's lovely. I didn't know you were so talented!"

Chipp rubbed the back of his neck as his face turned pink. "Aww, it's nothing. Anji taught me a couple things, but I ain't so good."

May chimed in with a look of pride. "I gave him the paper. Isn't it pretty?"

Dizzy nodded in agreement before giving Chipp an earnest look. "Chipp, it's really wonderful." She looked down with a blush. "I can't possibly thank you enough."

As Chipp began to stutter, Johnny let out a chuckle. "I prefer using elegance myself, but I see you've quite a talent for charming a lady's heart."

Chipp opened his mouth to retort but May latched herself onto his back. "Chipp's got a girlfriend!"

At this exclamation, Dizzy blushed and turned away while Chipp tried to pry the young girl off of him. May only giggled as he tugged without success, her legs dangling in the air.

She tightened her grip around his neck and her next words were irritable. "And what's the big idea, giving her a present but not making anything for me?" She released him and dropped back to the ground. She poked him in the back. "I'll let you leave without giving me something but only if you promise to come back and play."

Chipp turned and glared down at the girl. He crossed his arms and regarded her with a condescending look. "Hmph. What the hell makes you think I have time to play with a brat like you?"

She kicked him in the shins. "Don't swear! And don't call me a brat!"

Johnny gave a long-suffering sigh, but a smile played on his lips. "May, if you keep this up he'll never come visit."

May stopped kicking him but a pout lingered on her lips. Chipp's angry expression faded into something serious and he turned to Johnny. For a moment the two men did not speak as they exchanged cool but respectful looks.

Chipp asked, "Do you remember what I said? I meant it."

Johnny nodded. "Indeed. I respect a man who pays his debts."

Chip shrugged. "I always do. And you ain't so bad yerself."

The pirate tipped his hat and smirked a little. "From you, Zanuff, I will take that as the highest compliment. And you are always welcome on the May Ship, but only if you promise to baby-sit."

May and March let out simultaneous cries of indignation. "I'm not a baby!"

Dizzy and Johnny chuckled at the young girls, but Chipp only twisted his lips into a rueful smile. "Don't worry, I'll be back." He smirked at May. "Someone's gotta teach you how to fight properly."

May stuck out her tongue at him but he was already turning away, hitching his pack up on his shoulder. He began to walk down the gangplank, the boards clacking with each step. As he made his way down, he saw a parked car at the bottom and a man moving toward the ship.

The man met Chipp at the bottom. "Chipp Zanuff? I'm Tyler Cobb of the IPF, and I'm to escort you to a safe house."

Chipp gave the nondescript man a suspicious glance. The other's uniform was not quite straight and he ran a hand through his uncombed hair with a casual gesture. His whole appearance seemed rumpled, as if he'd woken up late and hurried here dressed in a day-old uniform. The one untied shoelace added to the image. And while Chipp immediately liked him better than Kiske, he still did not trust him.

"Yeah, I know the plan. Guess you're gonna drive me? Do I need to wear a blindfold or something?"

Cobb didn't quite smile. "Only if you want one. If you're feeling really enthusiastic, I could handcuff you or something."

Chipp managed to glare and smile at the same time. "I'm good." He tossed his stuff in the backseat. "Let's get this shit moving. I haven't had breakfast."

Cobb gave a mock salute. "Can do, chief."

The ninja rolled his eyes and opened the door on the other side of the car. As he took his seat, he heard a distant voice calling from the ship, "Chiiiiiiiiipppppp!"

He looked up to see May and March waving with enthusiasm from the ship deck. Dizzy and Johnny stood behind them, silently watching. Chipp gave a final wave before he turned back and snapped his seatbelt into place. He found himself already missing the kids but hid his sadness with a look of boredom.

If Cobb noticed either expression, he ignored it. Whistling under his breath, he took his place in the driver's seat and started the ignition.

"So what kind of music do you listen to?"

* * *

Venom looked through the assignments – thick files with information meticulously collected on both clients and targets by the Assassin Guild's many agents. At the top Clyne had made his suggestions as to which Guild member should take a particular assignment. Now he waited in front of Venom's desk with quiet deference, only requiring Venom's final approval before he put out the list for the rest of the Guild. 

In most cases Venom looked over the assignments with a quick glance before tossing them in the "ready" pile – Clyne was well-suited to the administrative aspect of Guild leadership and he rarely made poor decisions. And for this reason, Venom did a double take when he saw Clyne's own name attached to a low-profile case.

"Clyne, you wish to take the Starky assignment?"

"Yes, my lord."

Venom's eyes skimmed through the folder's contents as he considered his lieutenant's decision. "He's nothing more than a low-life thug. Drugs, prostitution and some enforcement. There's no reason why an A-ranked Guild member like yourself should go on such a trivial assignment."

"I am afraid that I must disagree, my lord. If you look more closely at the file, you'll see that the town he controls has a large International Police Force presence. It would be an easy assignment except for this factor, which forces me to recommend an experienced member in the case that anything should go wrong."

The Guild leader gave a slow but thoughtful nod. "Indeed. Your insight into the situation is superb, but I still must reject your suggestion."

It was not often that he could catch Clyne off-balance, and the uncertainty on the redhead's face made Venom smile inwardly. Clyne asked with confusion, "My lord?"

"As you know it has been several months since my last assignment. I cannot hide behind my injuries forever, and this assignment sounds like a good warm up."

Clyne's face became smooth and expressionless as he bowed, acknowledging and accepting Venom's decision. "As you wish, my lord."


	10. Dreams and Deductions

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari

**Notes:**  
I'm posting this a day early, because I'm going out of town again. Everything about Tsuyoshi I gathered from the Guilty Gear art book and a brief summary of _The Butterfly and its Gale_, which is a novel about Chipp's past. I hope it's not way off o.O;;.

**Chapter 10: Dreams and Deductions**

**

* * *

**

The living conditions within the International Police Force's safe house were decidedly better than Chipp's usual accommodations. All the lights worked, he never ran out of hot water, the cockroaches scarce, and the rats non-existent. He even had his own personal bedroom with a lock that worked. Here at last he enjoyed the good life.

True, he had to put up with police agents watching the place twenty-four-seven, but Cobb promised the rooms were not wired and Chipp had carefully confirmed this within the first few hours of arrival. Inside the apartment he, Anji and Baiken had privacy from the IPF, but off the premises guards were supposed to escort them. Chipp wondered if they actually thought they could stop him if he decided to leave.

"Chiiiipppppp!" Anji's whine sounded even more nasal as it traveled from the kitchen into Chipp's quarters. The Japanese man continued to complain, "There's mold in the refrigerator, it smells terrible and, oh gods, I think I just saw something moving across the counter! This place is filthy!"

Chipp looked up from the comic book he was flipping through and rolled his eyes. Anji had done nothing but bitch from the moment they arrived.

"Whaddaya want me to do about it?" Chipp asked.

After a considering pause, Anji yelled back, "Can you make me a sandwich?"

The ninja went back to his comic and declared in a bored tone, "That's a woman's work, Mito. Ask Baiken."

Like Anji's voice, Baiken's came from the kitchen area but she did not yell. Rather she spoke in a loud but matter-of-fact voice that pierced the walls, "I'll fucking kill you, you snot-nosed punk."

Chipp glared at the door then tossed aside the comic, muttering, "Whatever. Cranky old broad."

"I heard that, Zanuff!"

"I didn't say nothin'!"

If she had bothered to respond, her words did not reach his ears. Despite her seeming silence, he could imagine the scowl on her face as she resumed drinking – her full-time hobby since coming here. He could also imagine the glower, just short of murder, in her eye as even the assortment of weapons undoubtedly scattered across the table. Chipp felt relief that a door and hallway separated them.

He went back to his stack of comics, flipping through the thin pages but not taking the time to read any dialogue. Before long he grew bored with the few comics he managed to purchase in this city and picked up his little bag of personal belongings. Most of the items he had received from various Jellyfish Pirates, including a minidisk player from April, who took pity on his penniless state. He offered to teach her ninjistu in exchange, but she declined.

Rifling through crumpled clothes and loose shuriken, Chipp searched for the music player and headphones. When he heard a knock on the door, he let his hand settle halfway in the pack as he called out, "Yeah?"

A familiar voice answered, "It's me."

The handle turned but Anji only pushed the door open enough that he could speak through the crack. From this angle Chipp could not see any part of Anji except for a blotch of shadow, which darkened the doorframe. He spoke in a casual voice, but Chipp could hear the undercurrent of worry in his friend's tone.

"We were wondering if you wanted to join us for dinner." After a moment he added, "Baiken promised not to hurt you."

An involuntary smile touched Chipp's lips but faded as soon as it appeared. Although he came to the safe house almost two weeks ago, he had yet to eat dinner with the others. He preferred to snack on something after they went to bed (or passed out from hashish and booze in Baiken's case), rather than sit down for an hour or two with them. As much as he liked the company, Chipp found himself avoiding both people for extended periods of time. And while the close quarters of the safe house made isolation difficult, having grown up in a one-room apartment with seven people, Chipp was something of an expert.

The ninja couldn't help a tentative sniff at the air, and he picked up the faint scent of rice and soya. One cue his mouth watered and his stomach began to rumble, and he pressed his hand against his stomach in irritation. Even as his body demanded food, the thought of sitting down and having to look Anji in the eyes killed any appetite he might have had.

Chipp tried to keep his voice pleasant, but it made the lie even more apparent. "I'm good. I figured I'd go to bed early and stuff."

Anji somehow managed to make his silence disapproving and said without saying a word, _I know what you're doing, and you know I know why. So stop acting like an ass because I've already forgiven you. _But Chipp could not explain to him that Anji and Baiken only understood a part of it. Although he was glad to have the other's forgiveness, it wasn't what he needed.

After a moment of hesitation, Anji shuffled his feet and spoke in a voice somewhere between dejection and annoyance. "Yeah, well, we'll leave it out on the table. The extra pickled radish is in the fridge. I guess...I guess I'll see you in the morning."

Even though the door prevented Anji from seeing him, Chipp felt his cheeks flush with shame and he looked guiltily at the floor. He mumbled, "Yeah. See you."

Chipp listened for the sound of retreating footsteps before he turned back to the bag in his lap. He let the headphones, twisted and knotted about the player, slip through his fingers and fall back into the pack. His desire to listen to music faded when he thought about Baiken and Anji sitting at the table without him.

He flopped back, landing on his back and fixing his eyes on the ceiling. As much as he wanted to see his two friends again, he had been stupid to come here – to accept that cop's proposition.

He did not belong here after what he did to Anji. And while everyone seemed willing to forgive him, Chipp wondered what they would think if they knew the truth. Baiken and Anji both assumed that he could not remember anything from when the Robo-Ky controlled him. They treated him as if he was as much a victim as Anji, May and the others, but that was a lie.

Although most of his memories were hazy and blurred like an ink-smeared page, he remembered enough. While that fucking robot crawled through his brain, picking through information and manipulating his body, he could remember every fight, every swing of his arm blade, with stark clarity. Even now he could remember the feel of Anji's throat between his hands and the tremor that coursed through the steel beams as May's anchor cut into the side of the ship when she swung at him.

And through all the battles, he could remember the apathy that gripped his heart and mind. Although conscious of that thing in his mind, he had not fought against – he had accepted it. He had embraced the decisions it suggested to him, even when it told him to attack his best friend and infiltrate an airship to kidnap a child. He had not even tried to defy it, and the thought of this weakness shamed him.

Suddenly angry, Chipp moved to toss aside his pack but felt his fingers brush against something plastic and smooth. It was a familiar feeling and when he twisted his wrist to grasp the object, the weight also was familiar – this familiarity triggering a physical reaction that shivered through his body.

His hands began to sweat and his mouth went dry while his heart pounded against its ribcage with furious need. His body knew that weight and the faint rattle within even before his mind could register it. With a trembling hand Chipp took the small bottle from his bag and brought it before his face to examine. His need had not lied – it was a bottle of sleeping pills with a little extra something.

He kept such a bottle around for emergencies. Under Tsuyoshi's tutelage, he had not needed any controlled substances but after his master's death, Chipp adopted a few vices to make life bearable. These pills were one of them and intended only for those times when sleep came in shallow, painful bursts between the disquiet of nightmares. In such moments – when waking and sleep became indistinguishable and thus equally unbearable – Chipp allowed himself a few pills that sent him falling past dreams and memories into something more silent, more peaceful.

And although he had no desire to sleep at this moment, that was preferable to consciousness, and Chipp deemed this night worthy of his emergency stash. With an expert shake of the bottle, Chipp guessed how many pills remained in the unmarked container. Six, maybe seven, assuming none of those pieces were halves. Popping off the top, he raised the bottle to his lips and let the contents slide down his throat with a choked swallow. Rough going down, the pills left a bitter taste on his tongue, and he grimaced slightly before dropping the bottle to the floor.

He rolled onto his stomach as he waited for the pills to take affect. He could almost feel the chemicals dispersing in his stomach before making their way up through his heart and slipping into his mind. His eyes became heavy but not from fatigue as the room began to spin. No, the room did not turn; he could feel the earth turning, and this thought made him smile a little.

He let his eyes close as his body drifted away, sinking past the darkness of sleep into a warm place, fuzzy around the edges. For a moment he felt the peace he sought, but even here a voice called to him, reached for him, and Chipp eyes fluttered open.

The off-white ceiling had become the craggy gray of a cave's opening, and small rocks and twigs dug into his back. Chipp sat up, immediately recognizing the place. He looked around with detached interest.

In that corner he had curled into a fetal position as the heroine fled his system, leaving the agony of withdrawal in its wake. By the entryway Tsuyoshi had first shown him the power of ki, and Chipp had watching in amazement as white energy crinkled around his master's hands. And here where he lay, was where he had found Tsuyoshi's body, cut and maimed but surrounded by a pile of bodies of his killers. That day Chipp had lost his master, but the Assassin's Guild had lost over ten members.

The voice spoke again, and now it rang clear in his ears, unmistakable in its familiarity. "You were my only student."

Chipp twisted around to face the cave's entrance. Master Tsuyoshi stood as still as the rock itself and wore a serene but stern expression. His gray-streaked hair flowed neatly combed down his neck and to his shoulders, and his clothes, while well worn, were free of dirt and creases. Except for a certain paleness that made the scar through his eye and down his cheek almost invisible, he looked fine and healthy, and Chipp wondered what made him think his master had died.

Something was wrong, Chipp could feel it, but he could not bring himself to ask such a disrespectful question. Instead he scrambled to kneel facing his master and brought his legs up beneath him as he lowered his head to the ground.

Rocks dug into his hands and knees as he cried out, "Yes, Master!"

Tsuyoshi continued in his slow, methodical voice, "You were my only student, but I did not take you in out of pity."

Chipp hastily exclaimed, "No, Master!"

Feeling the other's eyes on him, Chipp snuck a furtive glance up through his hair, and saw Tsuyoshi give a thoughtful nod. The nod held no approval – only acknowledgement of Chipp's response – but Chipp dared not to speak even as he felt his heart sink.

At last Tsuyoshi asked, "And do you know why I made you my student?"

Chipp pressed his head even lower against the ground. "No, Master!"

"I did it because I saw strength within you. In that drug-addicted body and angry young mind of yours, I thought I saw the spirit of a ninja."

Raising his head, Chipp's eyes looked hopeful. "Master?"

Tsuyoshi's gaze held no anger, but Chipp nevertheless looked away as the other's only eye stared into him. He had never seen such coldness in Tsuyoshi before, and that scared him almost as much as the words, which cut into him like a physical wound.

"Now I see nothing but a weak and cowardly child. You failed your friends and you failed me." Tsuyoshi spoke with quiet detachment, but Chipp flinched at each word.

He glanced up, hoping to find some trace of Tsuyoshi's former kindness and forgiveness, but his master's face had changed. His skin had become metallic and his eye gleamed yellow with artificial light. Tsuyoshi now appeared more robotic than human, and Chipp leapt to his feet and backpedaled, afraid of the other's proximity. As he moved back, he stumbled on something unyielding and his feet tangled in folds of cloth and stiff limbs.

Unable to regain his balance, Chipp slipped and his tailbone smacked into the hard stone ground. He caught himself with his hands, but pain shot up through the heel of his palms and up past his elbows. At his feet lay what remained of Tsuyoshi's body after the assassin's found him. Blood was everywhere – seeping through Chipp's clothes and coating his hands and legs.

When the body began to raise itself, a fit of trembling seized Chipp as a fear he hadn't experienced since childhood ran through him. Then he had been five and hiding under the sink as his uncle, drunk and armed with a power cable, tried to find him, cursing him with every step.

As the terror threatened to overwhelm Chipp, the other asked in a grating, mechanical voice, "WHYDIDYOULETMEDIE?"

Now Venom, cue raised and murder in his eyes, stood behind Tsuyoshi. Before his master could react, the assassin struck, running him through with the cue stick as the sound of tearing flesh echoed through the cavern.

A scream of agony – of horror – ripped itself from Chipp's throat and he twisted around, bumping into the cave's side. Unable to think, he clawed at the rocky wall, scratching at it with all his strength. He tore at it until his nails splintered and his fingers became bloody and numb. He tore at it until he felt something cold and metal encircling his neck, pulling him, choking him –

And he jerked awake.

For a moment Chipp could hear nothing over the blood pounding in his ears and the ragged gasps that wheezed out from his throat. His eyes saw clearly in the darkness of the room, but everything now seemed unfamiliar and he felt a wave of disorientation. He cradled his hands together, and although they throbbed as if with pain, they were whole and undamaged.

Chipp tried to remember where he was.

Only when his eyes swept over the small bottle on the floor did the memories return. He was in a safe house with Anji and Baiken and had taken sleeping pills earlier that evening. Now he was awake; now he was safe – no dreams could follow him here. As his breathing evened out, he could at last relax his muscles and begin to sort through his thoughts. Sleep had come but not deep enough to escape those persistent dreams that haunted his nights.

Chipp reached down and scooped up the pill bottle. A quick shake revealed its emptiness, and he threw it into a corner of the room with disgust. The pills had failed to stop the dreams and had left him worse off than before. Running a hand through his mussed hair, Chipp looked at the clock on the nightstand, which read "11:14" in its blocky red lettering.

11:14. So he'd slept for only a little over three hours. The night was still young, and now he could not possibly return to sleep. He would not risk the dreams twice in one night.

With a hiss of annoyance, he rolled off the bed and stood up, pressing pale fingers against his temple. His old injuries – accumulated from his time under that Robo-Ky's control – began to itch with intensity just short of pain. He couldn't stay here; he needed to get out of this place.

Chipp laced up his shoes with difficulty – for some reason his hands wouldn't stop shaking – and moved to the door. As he turned the knob he heard the low voices of Baiken and Anji coming from the kitchen area. They spoke with soft intensity that made the words undistinguishable but from Baiken's angry tone and Anji's insistence, he guessed it probably involved that man.

Such arguments happened with relative frequency and they would not notice Chipp's absence in the middle of such tiffs. He thought about the policemen stationed around the building's perimeter and remembered his promise not to leave without their knowledge and an escort, but he was not leaving – he just needed a little fresh air. He would return before they even realized he had left.

Chipp picked up his arm blade – fresh air could be dangerous after all – and muttered the incantation that masked his aura and body. As he moved toward the window, wrapped in the darkness and quiet of shadows, Chipp felt a twinge of concern, but he reassured himself as he leapt into the night.

What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

Ky spent most of his day in the IPF's archives so he stopped by headquarters only late in the evening. When he returned to the station, he found Cobb, coffee in hand, waiting by his office door. 

His assistant gave him a meaningful look as he mentioned that Ky had a visitor, and the detective felt no surprise when he saw Johnny lounging in his chair. His guest, the notorious and sometimes wanted pirate captain of the May Ship, had his feet propped on Ky's desk and was flipping through a sensitive document that was none of his business.

Unperturbed, Ky tossed his cloak on a spare chair before shutting the door and closing the blinds. When he finished, he turned back to the pirate and stated in a cool voice, "Mr. Johnny, although I have asked for your help in this investigation, if you presume on my hospitality, you will become unwelcome very quickly."

Johnny gave him a wry smirk but took his feet of the desk and rolled out of the chair. As Ky moved around him to reclaim his seat, the pirate gave a mock bow, which Ky chose to ignore.

The pirate explained, as he pulled up a chair from along the wall, "Your friend Cobb saw me poking around the station and figured the safest place to stash me was in your office. I, on the other hand, have perfect faith in the legal system and know a law-abiding citizen such as myself will have no trouble with the police department."

It was a little past midnight, and Ky had only stopped by his office to pick up several contact numbers before heading home. Johnny's appearance was an unwelcome hindrance, and tonight he had no patience for the other's teasing banter.

Feeling his patience grow thin, Ky almost snapped, "You took a great risk in coming here, Mr. Johnny, and as much as I'd like to chat, perhaps you wish to tell me something of importance?"

The pirate's usual grin slipped at Ky's annoyed tone and he shrugged, letting his expression turn serious. "It occurs to me that you'll never locate the Postwar Administration Bureau."

After he steepled his fingers and leaned his elbows on the desk, Ky gave Johnny a tired look. "Mr. Johnny, if that is your great reason for coming here, I may have to arrest you."

Johnny leaned back, waving off the detective's half-hearted threat. "Now, now. Hear me out, Detective Kiske. I looked through some of your files –" At Ky's annoyed glare, Johnny hastily added, "Only relevant files, of course, and I realize you've focused mostly on the Knight's tournaments to discover the origin of the Robo-Kys."

Ky interrupted, "Of course. That tournament is the only connection between the victims. Japanese heritage plays a large part for sure, but victims like Kuradoberi and Zanuff only have a connection through the tournament."

Looking over his sunglasses, Johnny spoke in a patient tone, "Detective Kiske, forgive me for interfering with your investigation, but do you have any theories as to why the Robo-Kys hunt down such people?"

As he rubbed his face, Ky felt the many sleepless nights catching up with him as exhaustion tried to wrap his mind in its numbing blanket. He recited what he told both his superiors and subordinates during briefings, "They make effective warriors, as we've seen with Zanuff and Bellamy, who unfortunately died before we could apprehend him. I assume from this that the Bureau hopes to form some sort of standing army – in addition to their Robo-Kys of course – perhaps in a bid for power."

Johnny leaned forward and nodded. "A logical inference, Detective Kiske, and at first I was inclined to agree with that hypothesis. But the more I think about it, the less sense it makes.

"The Postwar Administration Bureau already has a great deal of international power so what does a shadow organization need with a coup? Also the brainwashed warriors rarely kill; they are programmed to retrieve other fighters, who are in turn subjected to brainwashing. But this brainwashing is not very effective and easily overcome – not exactly what you'd want for an army."

With a shrug, Ky asked, "So what are you suggesting? Why else go through the trouble of these kidnappings?"

"I'm wondering if the Robo-Kys themselves haven't been telling us all along what the Bureau is after."

For the first time that night, the detective visibly perked up and sat straight in his seat. Now he looked across his desk with interest rather than fatigue as he asked, "What do you mean?"

Johnny studied his fingernails and tried to put on a front of indifference. Even so, his excitement showed through in his clipped words.

"It's interesting to note that when Chipp attacked me, he said I was wanted by the Postwar Administration Bureau. This of course makes sense, given my connection to the second Holy Knights Tournament. But only recently did I learn Chipp's exact words to May. He did not mention the Bureau at all; instead he said she was an asset in some experiment.

"At first I assumed this was another way of saying the same thing, but then my mechanic, Novel, reminded me that computer programs don't think – they simply react to each scenario in a pre-programmed way."

Ky's eye lit with the beginnings of understanding, "So that means he sought out you and May for different reasons."

With a nod, Johnny continued, "And after looking through these reports, I see that his words to both Baiken and Anji were that they were assets in an experiment – not that the Postwar Administration Bureau wanted them. On the other hand, the first group of Robo-Kys to attack Baiken mentioned the warrant placed on her by the Bureau."

The late-night adrenaline kicked in and Ky thumbed through the folders on his desk with newfound fervor. He navigated the information with the ease of a professional, and having flipped through the files that interested him, he confirmed Johnny's words. A small frown creased his lips as he wondered how such an obvious clue slipped past both him and Cobb – Cobb in particular had a knack for noticing connections like that. Perhaps the long hours and seemingly endless investigating had taken their toll on his assistant as well.

As Ky replaced the folders, Johnny added, "As you may or may not know, May – like Seishino and Mito – is of Japanese descent."

Folding his hands behind his head, Ky stretched his arms and back, which gave a satisfying pop. He mused, "They want Japanese people for a specific reason."

"A specific experiment," Johnny corrected. "And where there's an experiment, there's a lab. You shouldn't look for a group of politicians or an army's training camp, you need to look for a laboratory."

Ky shook he head. "Unfortunately that's another dead end. In the case of all brainwashed victims, they have only a vague recollection of the brainwashing process. All the information we have received has proven faulty at best but nonexistent more often than not."

The pirate put his elbow on Ky's desk and leaned forward. "It's true that we can't depend on eye-witness reports, but you can always rely on money, and any such laboratory would require a great deal of financing."

"The IPF has already looked into all companies and governments involved in weapons development, but you're right. We should expand our search," Ky decided. "We should also look into companies with branches working with bioengineering and probably psychological studies as well."

Johnny added, "Don't forget the Japanese connection – many governments are pushing to investigate the genetics of people from the Japanese colony these days. And between your information and mine, we can probably find all major developments in the past three or four years."

Ky shook his head. "Better make it at least eight – probably ten."

With a curious look, Johnny asked, "Why eight to ten?"

"You remember how I mentioned a Doctor Francesco, former citizen of Zepp? He disappeared eight years ago, and he's the best scientist outside of Zepp to head any experiments involving Robo-Kys."

Johnny considered this as he rose to his feet. Ky stood as well, feeling excitement beneath the wave of fatigue. The pirate picked up his hat and replaced it on his head.

He pushed up his sunglasses – who wore sunglasses in the middle of the night? – and said, "Right. We better get started." With a grimace, he muttered, "That's a lot of information to look through."

Ky gave him a weary smile. "True, but it's a necessary evil. And I have some of the best help available." His smile faded, replaced by thoughtful concern. "Although I'm surprised Officer Cobb hadn't thought to expand the search. I depend on him to pick out the most promising leads to follow, and before now he has never failed me."

"He's probably as tired as you are." Johnny moved to peak through the blinds. "Speaking of, I see him still working out there."

As he pulled on his cloak, Ky moved toward the door. "He and I are usually the only ones from our division here at this time of night. Although he denies it, I think he waits up for me to finish. Maybe he's trying to guilt me into getting sleep."

Johnny quirked his lips as the detective held the door open for him. "Actually I'm inclined to agree. Get a good night's rest, Detective, and things will become easier in the morning."

As Johnny and Ky moved toward the building's exit, Cobb let out a yelp of surprise and scrambled to pack up his work. "Wait a minute! I'm just about done, and damned if I'll be the last one to leave this hellhole!"

While the two men waited with good-natured patience, the officer crammed papers into his bag seemingly at random. When Cobb all but sprinted over to them, Ky informed him, "While we walk, I want to run a theory by you that Mr. Johnny and I just developed. When you start work tomorrow morning, it will become your full time assignment."

The thought of morning made Cobb's head droop as he looked at his watch. He managed a mock salute as sarcasm dripped from his voice. "Yes sir. I can't wait, sir!"

* * *

One of his assistants caught up to him as he looked over the figures from Sector A's latest experiment with another scientist. Steve's look of worry gave him a feeling of foreboding, and that only increased when he heard the other's message. Someone from the Bureau wanted to see him. 

Visits from the Postwar Administration Bureau were never pleasant, but as coordinator of the research facility, his duties included getting – and maintaining – funding for the projects. He handed back the lab report and excused himself, gesturing for Steve to follow as he hurried to his office. Although he mentally thanked his assistant for the warning, the sight of the Bureau's agent, poking around his things, filled him with annoyance.

He extended his hand to the agent but the other took it with disdain and did not offer his own name. Although rude even by Zepp standards, the scientist had grown used to such treatment, and he silently reminded himself that the seemingly limitless funding from the Bureau was worth any amount of petty humiliations.

The scientist began, "Dr. Hewitt informed me of your arrival, but I thought the scheduled monthly inspection was to happen next week."

The man, nondescript with dark eyes and a touch of gray in his shaggy brown hair, smiled an unfriendly, conspiratorial smile. "Surely you've realized by now that this is an unscheduled inspection. My employer asked me to drop by for a little chat. You know how it is."

The scientist didn't, but he could not argue with this man. Instead he nodded, letting a stream of invectives flow through his head even as he asked in a calm voice, "What interests you in particular? We have four major projects, not including Robo-Ky assembly, and each sector has its own head researcher. I can get any of them that you'd like to speak to."

"I'd like to speak to the one who is developing a biological interface for the robots."

Cold fear replaced the scientist's growing irritation, but he moved to his desk and shuffled through some papers to hide it. "If you're referring to our Reprogramming Project, we use accelerated thought-reform rather than interfacing the human subjects with robotic programming. I can refer you to chief researcher Molko if you'd like."

Once again the other showed his teeth in that repulsive grin. "No, no, I mean the project involving bioengineered Robo-Kys. Someone here is working on such a thing, correct? Now that I think of it, that sort of thing was your specialty before you came onto this project, yes?"

The scientist shrugged and made himself frown in confusion. "Of course, but how could anyone do research like that? Surely you know that the Postwar Administration Bureau has not provided funding for any such project."

Lacing his fingers together, the Bureau agent took a seat. Now that the scientist got a closer look, the man did not look nondescript at all – this agent was downright predatory.

"My point exactly. You see, we at the Bureau have reason to believe some of our funding has been...misappropriated. This in itself is not a problem, but some of the Robo-Kys and reprogrammed individuals have begun to act in a manner not necessarily in our best interests.

"It is fine if someone wishes to pursue a side project, but he or she ought to go through the proper channels and not use subjects from other, more important, projects. I hope as the coordinator for all of our experiments, you can understand such concerns."

"Of course," he answered, his voice carefully controlled. "I will investigate this matter personally."

That smile again. Although the scientist was not particularly violent, he knew he was going to smack that agent if this meeting didn't end soon.

As if sensing his thoughts, the other let the offending smile grow into a challenging smirk, just short of a snarl. "I'm sure you will. Although we at the Postwar Administration Bureau appreciate the efforts of you scientists, we also realize that everyone is expendable. Everyone." The agent rose to his feet with a polite nod. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll see myself out. Don't worry; I know the way."

The agent moved past Steve, who had stood by the door during the entire conversation. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground even as the agent sized him up. At last the agent moved through the doorway with a bored look and once in the corridor, let the door close with a quiet click.

Neither scientist spoke as the minutes ticked by – the coordinator by his desk and Steve by the door – and neither moved. At last in a timid voice, Steve asked, "What should we do?"

Francesco slid back into his chair with a sigh. "We'll continue our research, but we've got to be more careful. This research is too big to drop, but without Postwar Administration Bureau backing, we'll never get the funding we need." Slamming his fist down with an angry snarl, the scientist continued, "That bastard! Thinks he's so clever for catching on and then rubs it in my face! Expendable? Ha! Without us the Bureau is nothing! We'll see who gets the last laugh. Steve, how soon until the MK2s will be ready for field testing?"

His assistant shrugged, "More input would be optimal, but we can have them on the assembly line in under two months."

Francesco smiled for the first time since he caught a glimpse of that self-satisfied agent. "Good. Very good. Have everyone ready for phase two by the end of the week."


	11. Friendly Enemies

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari**  
**

**Notes:**  
I'm going to aim for a chapter every two weeks from now on, but bear with me if I can't make it. Also I hope my description of codeine is somewhat plausible in this chapter...o.o;;.

* * *

**Chapter 11: Friendly Enemies  
**

Venom carried out his assignment with expected ease. The late Starky had been a drug addict himself, and Venom found him, along with his bodyguards, in the deep dreams of heroine. They barely heard him deliver their death sentence – an old Guild tradition but one to which Venom still adhered – and when he at last struck, they slipped into death without a fuss.

Even an amateur could have carried out such an assassination, but the killing itself was only part of the reason why the client hired an Assassin Guild member. The greater danger came from the city's presence of the International Police Force. Even in these seedier parts of town, a tripped alarm or suspicious neighbor could make escape difficult, if not impossible.

For that reason Venom moved with caution, even having completed the assignment. After repacking his cue stick and balls into their carrying case, he replaced his vest and tie – removed before the hit to avoid bloodstains. After pulling his hair back into a neat ponytail, he wiped down his shoes and made his way out of the house and back onto the streets.

While he did not look exactly reputable, in this part of the city he appeared no more suspicious than any other businessman staying late in the bars or seeking pleasurable company for the night. He took back alleys, memorized in advance, to avoid any witnesses, and the route proved well chosen, as he saw no one – not even the typical homeless person or drunkard in the gutter.

Satisfied with the plan he and Clyne had devised, he turned down a narrow street – little more than a walking space between two fences – as he wiped his hand across his pants. He wanted to get rid of the smell of blood, but he knew nothing but a proper bath and plenty of time would remove it.

Venom looked down at his sleeve and noticed a fleck of blood – dark specks on his white cuffs. With alarm he began to examine it more closely and almost tripped on the bundle of rags lying across the road. Only because his foot caught on something solid and pliant, something body like, did he even take a closer look. Indeed there was a body, huddled against the fence with pale flesh poking out through the tattered piece of cloth and sheets of newspaper. Although his eyes had long adjusted to the night, it took Venom a moment to realize the figure was still breathing and another to recognize it.

This body was alive, and Venom knew him all too well.

Chipp Zanuff.

Of all the grubby street alleys in all towns in all the world...what the hell was Zanuff doing here?

The assassin asked as much in an urgent but hushed voice. "What the hell are you doing here, Zanuff?"

Chipp did not respond immediately, and instead looked up at Venom with a blank stare. After several moments of non-recognition, Chipp let his head loll back and rest against the wooden planks of the fence, but Venom had already assessed the situation. Even if he did not know the ninja's history well enough to guess the reason behind his lethargy, Venom had enough contact with drug pushers and users to identify the symptoms. Setting aside his carrying case, Venom crouched in front of the younger man.

A closer inspection confirmed the assassin's suspicions. Chipp had become parchment white, ghastly even on his normal albino skin tone, and his lips had a bluish tint in the moonlight. His breathing came in shallow rasps that whistled through his teeth, but Chipp did not appear concerned or in pain. On the contrary he had a faraway – almost peaceful – gaze, interrupted only by the occasional cheek spasm.

Glassy red eyes regarded Venom with only vague interest, even when the assassin pulled his head up by the hair.

"Zanuff. Zanuff!"

Venom slapped him on the cheek, first softly but then with enough force to leave a red mark tinged by a blue shadow – the beginnings of a bruise. He gave him a forceful shake.

"Chipp!"

At last the ninja responded, his eyes coming into focus with the languid delay of depressants. Blinking in slow motion, once then twice, Chipp broke into a goofy smile and asked in a unsteady voice, "Yo, Ve'om. Whatcha doin' here?"

Hand still gripping the back of Chipp's head, Venom gave him another shake of disgust. He did not want to play this game.

"What did you take, Zanuff?"

A slight frown creased the other's face as he considered Venom's words. For the first time he seemed to notice the assassin's hand tangled in his mussed hair and weakly batted at Venom's forearm in response. His usual arm blade remained attached at his wrist, but Chipp did not attempt to use it, and when Venom refused to let go, the ninja gave up with a disinterested shrug. He let his hand fall back to his side, and the blade clicked against the cobblestones, narrowly missing his own thigh.

Unaware of the near miss, Chipp mumbled, "Ain't a drug. Don't do drugs no more. 'm takin' codeine."

Not bothering to understand how Zanuff distinguished between drugs and codeine, Venom merely asked, "How much?"

Chipp's silly smile returned, and he leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, "Not telling."

Venom tightened his grip on the other's hair and pulled up hard enough that the man himself rose off the ground. Chipp's eyes rolled back and he gave a sharp gasp, but he did not fight back and remained doll-passive as Venom gave him a hard enough shake that a clump of hair tore out of Chipp's scalp and into his fingers.

When he asked again, Venom's voice unconsciously slipped into an interrogation tone, and his words came out hard and uncompromising. "I want to know how much you took."

With an unconcerned shrug Chipp answered at last, "Dunno. Four. Five. Mebbe six."

"Six tablets? How many milligrams?"

Chipp began to laugh, but the sound came out dry and stilted – little more than a wheeze. With a disgusted look Venom released Chipp's hair, and picked up his carrying case as he rose to his feet. The ninja slid back to the ground, letting his head come to rest on the dirty asphalt, as if Venom were the only one keeping him from falling.

And perhaps he was.

Too much time had already passed, and Venom needed to reach his checkpoint before the night scene ended and the late night crowd began to make its way home. He had no obligation to Chipp and no reason why he could not simply leave him here. Drugs or no, the ninja was still armed and had nothing of value to steal anyway. He was most likely used to passing out tucked away on side streets, then returning to whatever home he had during the day. Chipp would be fine, and Venom had better things to do than take care of street trash.

Nevertheless Venom did not move away or continue on one of his preplanned routes; instead he remained rooted in place, watching the younger man. Chipp seemed indifferent to Venom's presence but stirred again after several minutes of this observation. As he looked up to regard the assassin, he scratched at his arm and shoulder hard enough to leave angry red lines.

As if he could hear Venom's thoughts, Chipp muttered in a gravelly voice, "'Salright. You dun hafta stay. Yer just a dream anyway."

Venom gave a slight shake of his head as he answered in a quiet voice, "No. I'm real."

Chipp considered his words but dismissed them with a shrug as he nestled deeper into his pile of newspapers. "Dun matter. You'll leave an'way."

Venom nodded, "That's right. I'm leaving now."

But he found himself moving toward the other rather than away, and Venom was just as confused as Chipp when he hauled the ninja to his feet. Chipp's pallor grew worse. and he swayed unsteadily. A weak hand clutched at Venom's shirt, and he leaned into the assassin, his breath coming in labored gasps; Venom waited patiently.

Once his breathing evened out, Chipp managed in an almost petulant voice, "Wanna sit down."

Venom shifted his grip so he held the taller man right above the waist and, careful to avoid nicking himself on the arm blade, he tugged the other's arm around his shoulders to balance their combined weight. Chipp had a lean frame built for speed rather than power, but despite his almost frail body, Venom still struggled with the dead weight. Although relatively strong, the assassin had to concentrate to balance both his carrying case in one hand and the man in the other.

He tried to feel annoyance or disdain, but instead felt something closer to pity. _We're not at all alike, Chipp, but I still see me in you. I can hardly stand it._

"Come on, we'll go slowly." Venom coaxed, making his voice as gentle as possible.

Chipp shook his head, "Dun wanna. Anji and Baik'n 'll hate me."

Ignoring the other's protests, Venom took some tentative steps. Chipp seemed little more than dead weight, but he managed to hold onto Venom even as his head sagged with nausea.

Years as an assassin had not only taught Venom the persuasiveness of violence, but also the benefit of diplomacy and he cajoled Chipp in a patient tone, "I'm taking you to the hospital, Zanuff. You won't even have to see your friends."

For the first time that night, Chipp's voice became firm despite the codeine's numbing effects. "No hospitals."

Venom felt irritation seep into his voice as he hissed, "Zanuff –"

Although lacking the strength to raise his head, Chipp's words remained unyielding. "Said no hospitals."

Venom wanted to yell or drop him, but he did neither. Instead he clamped down on his flaring temper and spoke in a voice that betrayed only a little annoyance, "Very well, but then I must take you to your friends."

After a considering pause, Chipp assented with a muttered, "Fine."

"And where are your friends?" Venom asked in his sweetest voice, knowing that in his condition, Chipp would not recognize the sarcasm.

"With the Int'nation'l P'lice."

Only instinct prevented Venom from dropping Chipp, and while he kept his grip on the other man, the assassin paused midstep as he gave the ninja a disbelieving look. While he had never seen Chipp's rap sheet, Venom could imagine that it was just as long as his own – if only for disturbances of the peace.

He could not help blurting out, "Why in God's name are you with the International Police!"

"Wer in a safe'ouse. 's up by the commu'ty park 'n Ash Street. Ther're fuzz ev'where." After a pause, Chipp added, "Fuckin' pigs."

Venom could almost laugh. Assassin Guild leader or no, he'd taken on babysitting a cop-hating drug addict in the witness protection program. He had spent many hours planning a carefully chosen escape route that would avoid the police entirely, and now he planned to waltz right up to them, Chipp's sorry hide in tow. Clyne would probably deem him unfit to lead the Guild and kill him then and there if he found out, but it would have amused Millia – she always did have a twisted sense of humor.

He shifted to balance Chipp more comfortably against his side and resumed his slow but steady gait. He could not leave Chipp now that he had all but given his promise to help, but Venom did not bother making small talk. The company would not prove particularly insightful or entertaining, and he did not owe Chipp that much. Instead the pair made its way to the end of the alley in relative quiet – the only sounds coming from the shuffle of their feet and Chipp's soft rasps of breath.

As he turned onto another backstreet, this one leading away from his checkpoints, Chipp settled into the rhythm of walking and after a few steps, raised his head to rest against Venom's shoulder. His arm tightened around Venom's back as he clutched at the assassin's shirt with renewed strength. Every now and then he took a few steps of his own, rather than half dragging his feet along the pavement.

Although he appreciated the effort, Venom did his best to ignore the other's presence, as if by pretending he were not carrying Chipp, he could fool himself into believing it. For the most part he succeeded at this, until Chipp breathed out, low and warm against Venom's neck.

"Ve'om."

Like a trigger, the sound of his name caused a chain reaction through Venom's body. A dull ache of heat moved from neck to stomach, making his heart timpani inside his chest. Even as the warmth twisted in his gut, uncomfortable but somehow still pleasant, he felt something even lower begin to stir as a chill moved down his spine and across his arms.

He immediately knew that feeling, even if his body had all but forgotten the memories of another's nearness. But now he realized that his body had not forgotten at all, and it shivered with almost painful intensity, balanced between old memories and new wants.

In an instant, Venom became completely aware of Chipp's body heat beneath his skin's drug-induced clamminess. He could feel the other's hard lines of muscles, separated from his own body by only a thin layer of cloth, and for the first time he noticed Chipp's heady scent – tangy sweat and leather that did not quite hide an underlying masculine odor. The spiky but soft hairs that brushed against Venom's cheek now felt like whispered kisses – gently teasing but infinitely arousing.

Cheeks flushing, Venom almost stumbled again as a sudden cloud of lust wrapped around his mind. He gave the ninja a numb look and thought about dropping him – breaking the contact between them – but it occurred to Venom that he could not be certain of his actions if he did. He flushed again – this time through his whole body. As a plethora of maddening sensations and stupidly tempting fantasies raced through his mind, Venom clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, as he tried to clear his head and banish such thoughts.

He had not lain with anyone since Zato's death, but Venom always preferred slender men with long blonde hair and eyes colored like the ocean's depths. Even after Millia's betrayal, Zato never came to him, never slept with him, but Venom accepted that just as he accepted all of his lord's decisions. Yet all those long nights, alone or not, Venom thought of only one person – of only one name.

No one could compare to his beautiful and brilliant master, but embraced by darkness and somebody's warm arms, Venom could ignore the differences. In his own way, Venom remained monogamous to Zato since their first meeting, and the assassin felt disconcerted by his newly awakened libido and how thoughts about Zato turned into thoughts about this barely conscious man.

Now was not the time, here was not the place, and Chipp was most certainly not the person.

His body disagreed, but he told it to shut up.

He gave the ninja an accusatory glare but the other did not even notice, and the assassin felt his frustration grow. Venom realized he had to get rid the other man before he killed him...or worse. Trying to ignore such thoughts, Venom dislodged Chipp's head from his shoulder with a shake and continued walking.

As Guild leader, he had grown accustomed to making executive decisions, and Venom now formulated a new route. He began to lug Chipp toward a more populated street, even thought he ran a big risk by coming into contact with civilians. Tonight seemed to be his evening for doing as many stupid things as possible in the shortest amount of time, but he saw no better alternative.

Upon reaching the main road, Venom was pleased to find he and Chipp blended in surprisingly well. The poorly lit area had its fill of teenage thugs and middle-aged prostitutes milling on the sidewalks, and the cars that drove by had tinted windows and battered frames. In such an area, they appeared no more suspicious than any other pair of drunks leaving a bar around closing time.

He hailed one of the disreputable cabs lining the street and soon enough a dirty vehicle with a smashed windshield and a feeble headlight pulled up next to them. The assassin opened the door and shoved Chipp into the backseat, not bothering to warn him. The sudden movement caused the ninja groan with a fresh wave of nausea, but Venom resolutely ignored it and pushed him the rest of the way in.

As he considered paying the driver and leaving Chipp in the cabby's experienced hands, Venom almost closed the door. But a closer look at the driver's pointed features and bland but knowing look made him reconsider. It was not that he didn't trust the driver; he just...didn't trust the driver. And he had no intention of letting the ninja get his organs harvested after he put so much effort into helping him. Besides, Millia had always said anything worth doing – even something stupid – was worth doing well, and Venom at last understood what she meant.

With a sigh of resignation, he nudged the ninja over with his foot then slipped into the sticky seat next to him – blood or no, Venom wanted a shower when he got back to the Guild. Chipp seemed content to ignored the assassin and lean dreamily against the window, and Venom was suddenly grateful that codeine suppressed libido. At least one of them wasn't thinking like a horny teenager.

The cabby said nothing when Venom gave him a location several blocks away from the safe house although the assassin did not know what was at that particular address he had chosen. The driver merely nodded and pulled out into the street. Feeling a wave of gratitude for the man's reticence, and with a glare for good measure at Chipp's spaced out form, Venom settled in for the drive.

* * *

Under normal circumstances, Anji found Baiken's almost familial protectiveness of Chipp amusing. She had met Chipp before Anji even left the Japanese Colony, and while he never asked, Anji knew there had to be a story. Both preferred the life of a loner, but Baiken never show such sororal concern as when Chipp was involved. Once Anji had looked on in horror as she took on an entire bar when Chipp got into a knife fight, but as much as she grumbled, Baiken always took care of the younger man. The ninja seemed to bring that out in people – that or irritation. 

Now Baiken's protectiveness – manifested in an increasingly foul mood – made Anji's own frustration grow. He had never actually yelled at Baiken, but at the moment he felt sorely tempted. Of course such an act was stupid and childish (and with Baiken, possibly deadly), but her hotheaded attitude had infected him – especially as she tried to push past him through the door, hand fingering her katana in a silent threat.

But Anji was determined to have enough patience for both of them, and he did not yell. After taking a deep breath, he once again tried to reason with her.

"Chipp is able to sneak out because he's a ninja; ninja do things like that. We, on the other hand, are not ninja, and the only way we'll get out of this place to go look for him is if we tell Ky that he's disappeared. That or beat up every single police officer watching the perimeter."

Baiken gave him a look as if he were a moron. "That's my point, Mito; we gotta kick the shit outta them. If you're afraid, I can do all the killin'."

With a deceptively bright smile, Anji tried again, "Um, here's another idea; how about neither of us does any killing? How does that sound, hmm?"

The woman did not pay him any attention and as she tried to squeeze past the much larger man, she continued, "Dammit, I knew we shouldn't have come to this shitty place. Chipp's been acting weird since he got here, and I don't trust those fucking _gaijin_."

Anji blinked, surprised at Baiken's slip back into her mother tongue. She only spoke to Anji in Japanese when she didn't want Chipp to understand, but usually preferred the English language's various and multi-purpose curse words. Chipp's disappearance must have upset her more deeply than he realized.

In a sympathetic voice, Anji pleaded, "Come on, Baiken. Whatever you think about him, you know Chipp's not a kid anymore. And frankly he knows more about life on the streets than either of us. He probably got cabin fever sitting around all day and decided to hit some bars. I'm sure he's fine."

"If that little punk has been drinkin' without me, he won't be fine when he gets back," Baiken growled, but her face lost some of its tension.

Anji also smiled a little, but any relief he felt vanished at the cries that came from the street below. He could hear the sounds of a scuffle. Both Anji and Baiken tensed, and Anji checked for the comforting weight of the fans up his sleeves even as Baiken shifted her grip on the katana's hilt, knuckles turning white. Their eyes met for only an instant before both moved toward the door in unison – whatever was happening below, neither wanted to wait for it to come to them.

They descended quickly down the stairs – skipping three or four steps with each bound – but by the time they made it to the street, the fighting had mostly ended. Between the moonlight and the dim streetlamps, Anji could count ten police officers scattered across the pavement. Only three of them had their guns drawn, and the other seven appeared taken completely unaware. He could not tell if they were unconscious or dead.

Now only two officers remained standing, and one managed to charge the attacker and engage him in close combat – his nightstick interlocked with the other's pole. His fellow officer was making a dash for a communicator, which had fallen to the ground during the struggle.

Even as he reached for it, the unidentified attacker snapped something in his hand that knocked the other officer to the ground and the nightstick from his hands. Anji and Baiken stared in amazement as the attacker – now free to move – whipped down his pole and shot some sort of projectile forward. Even as the policeman brought the communicator to his lips, a ball smashed into the side of his head, and the radio slipped from his fingers as he toppled to the pavement.

The one remaining officer had only enough time to push himself to his knees before the attacker again faced him and struck with a well placed hit of his pole. The police officer crumpled with the jerky surprise of unconsciousness and joined his fellows on the ground.

After an assessing pause, the attacker lowered his weapon, and Anji got a better look at him. Dark skin accented by pale hair, and well-tailored clothes. He wielded something that Anji now recognized as a cue stick, and he also noticed the balls scattered among the bodies – cue balls.

Although Anji had never met him, he knew of only one fighter that used such an unorthodox weapon, and judging by Baiken's gasp, she too had identified him.

Venom of the Assassin's Guild. Had the Postwar Administration Bureau at last turned to the longest running organization on the planet to fulfill its plans?

Anji heard the ringing hum of Baiken drawing her blade, and he immediately moved to stand between her and the threat, fans materializing in his hands. He snapped them open and moved to a low crouch, ready to stop any attack.

But despite their aggressive response, Venom did not assume a fighting position. Instead with apparent unconcern, he dismantled his cue stick and replaced it in its case. Once he finished this task finished, he at last regarded the two Japanese with a slight nod of his head.

"Anji Mito and Baiken Seishino, I presume."

Baiken growled, "What's it to yah, asshole?"

Anji couldn't help a grim smile, "And you are Lord Venom of the Assassin's Guild. I'd say it is a pleasure to meet you, but I'd be lying."

Venom had pulled his white locks back in a loose ponytail rather than his infamous face-covering hairstyle, so Anji could see the assassin's dry smile. "You are much like I expected, Mito-san, as are you, Seishino-san." Anji arched an eyebrow at Venom's use of Japanese honorifics but said nothing, and Venom continued in a polite tone, "But I am afraid I do not have time for pleasantries. By now the police are aware of my presence, so I must move quickly."

He began to walk away, leaving Anji and Baiken to stare at each other with confusion. They remained in alert stances as he turned the corner, but both felt surprise when he returned a moment later, supporting another man.

Neither of them had trouble identifying that person, and they exclaimed at the same time, "Chipp!"

Anji knew immediately that his friend was not well, but when Venom brought him closer, Chipp's dreamy smile helped him identify the cause. Anji felt his heart sink, but Baiken moved into action.

With speed that might have impressed Chipp, she dashed across the few paces between them and the assassin and placed her blade against his throat. The assassin did not flinch and Anji felt newfound respect for him – few men could meet Baiken's gaze without fear.

When Venom spoke, his voice stayed low and even, betraying no hint of concern, "Seishino-san, you must realize that I could have already killed him if I desired to do so. There is no need for violence."

Baiken's hand did not waver, and Anji could imagine the cold anger of her one eye. She spat, "I know that, fucker, but that don't mean I trust you."

Venom regarded her with an assessing gaze just short of hostile, and Anji felt his hands itch the way they always did before a conflict. Baiken was not the sort to back down and he didn't think Venom was either; experience told Anji this could not end well. Remaining casual as he shifted his feet, Anji mentally judged the distance between him and the assassin.

But the tension in the air dissipated when Chipp at last spoke, pulling himself from his drug-induced haze. His words slurred in a tone too relaxed for the situation, "'S cool, Baik. Ve'om'sa friend. Righ, Ven?"

After the exertion of speaking, Chipp let his head roll forward and balance on the assassin's shoulder. Now Venom really did look like he wanted to kill the ninja, but he remained unmoving, letting his annoyance boil beneath the surface. Baiken's eyebrow shot up but after a pause she withdrew her blade and sheathed it, still looking at Chipp with incredulousness. A pinprick of blood beaded on Venom's dusky skin, but he seemed more irritated at Chipp than Baiken.

He gave Chipp a rough shove forward and Anji ran forward to catch him. The younger man sagged in his arms, and now that he supported the other's weight, Anji could feel his weak and uneven heartbeat through cold skin.

In answer to Anji's silent question, Venom explained, "He's taken a sizeable dose of codeine. Maybe something else, but he hasn't overdosed. Or so he claims."

"Haven't!" Chipp exclaimed unhappily from Anji's chest.

Venom glared at his back and opened his mouth to retort, but at the distant sound of sirens, he closed it with a concerned look. At last he took a reluctant step toward the street. He did not turn his back to them as he moved away, saying, "In any case I must leave immediately; I apologize for this inconvenience."

Once out of range, he spared the trio a brief glance before he raised his hand into the air. The balls on the pavement materialized in his grip, and he placed them in his brief case before striding toward the shadows. In the darkness away from the street lamps, Venom seemed to hesitate, and he turned to look one last time at Anji and Baiken.

His words were barely audible, but Anji almost thought he heard affection in his tone. "Take care of him."

Before either Anji or Baiken could react, he slipped back into the shadows and disappeared from sight, moving with his silent killer's grace. As the sirens go louder, Baiken slung Chipp's unbladed arm over her shoulder and began to help him back into the safe house. Anji immediately moved to assist since Chipp had slipped back into his euphoria with a sigh and had become even more limp.

Focusing on the task at hand, they dragged him up the flight of stairs, down the hall and to his room. They placed him on his bed, not bothering to remove any more than his boots. That accomplished, Anji moved toward the door as he tried to wrap his mind around the night's events. How could they concoct a plausible lie for Kiske when the truth was already too unbelievable?

Once out in the hall, Anji shook his head in amazement. Baiken closed Chipp's door as quietly as possible, although the man was not in a condition to appreciate her thoughtfulness. For a long moment they did nothing but look at each other, expressions caught between disbelief and confusion.

At last Anji managed, "Baiken, maybe I've just gone insane, but..."

He trailed off, and Baiken helpfully finished, "What the fuck just happened?"

Usually Anji avoided curse words, but sometimes he found them necessary.

"Yeah. What the fuck."


	12. Facing the Morning After

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari

**Chapter 12: Facing the Morning After**

* * *

"Oh shit" were the first words out of Chipp Zanuff's mouth when he woke up; the next were "fuck, fuck, fuck" as he rolled onto his side to peer through blurry eyes at his clock. It read "3:42" in far too cheerful block numbers. Although someone had closed the room's blinds, the bright light of afternoon trickled through the cracks and disrupted his otherwise peaceful darkness. 

Groaning in part because the daylight but also from the intense pounding behind his eyes, Chipp raised a hand to his face. He pressed the heel of his palm against the bridge of his nose to ward off the dehydration headache, but it did little to lessen the migraine. Raw stickiness coated his throat, and it took three tries to work up enough saliva to lick his cracked lips. The bitter aftertaste of codeine still tingled on his tongue.

For a whole minute he debated the pros and cons of getting a glass of water, and although his body demanded fluids, the task would require him to get out of his bed somehow and actually walk to the kitchen. Chipp was not sure that he could handle either challenge. Also he would have to see Baiken and Anji, and at the moment he had no desire to confront them.

The situation was his fault – he knew and they knew it, but that didn't mean he wanted to think about it. Even now he could only vaguely recall slipping out of the safe house on his quest to find the prescription drugs. He might have bought them off some gangly street kid, but beyond that Chipp could remember nothing – only vague recollections of euphoria and strange codeine-induced dreams remained with him. But why he imagined Venom carrying him home was beyond Chipp.

Ignoring his discomfort, Chipp rolled over and buried his head under a pillow. His sigh turned into a groan when his headache crescendoed and overrode all other thoughts. When he could no longer ignore the pounding, he raised himself onto his elbows with effort.

Stumbling out of bed, Chipp's foot caught in the crumpled sheets and he crashed to the floor. Despite his dulled reflexes, he avoided planting his face into the brown-stained carpet with a last minute twist of his elbows that left him gasping for breath. He took a moment to recover, his head sagging to the floor, before he let out another round of croaky-voiced expletives.

He tried again, and when he at last made it to his feet, he had to accustom himself to gravity and get his legs balanced under his body. With a grimace of concentration, the ninja built up enough momentum to stumbled from the room, leaning against the hallway walls as he moved down the corridor.

Although he focused most of his attention on the task of walking, Chipp could not miss the two people seated at the table in the kitchen. He was not entirely surprised to see that both Baiken and Anji had their eyes fixed on him, but whereas Anji wore a sympathetic frown, Baiken's face remained completely blank.

_Oh fuck_.

She made no attempt to rise as he moved past her; he mumbled some incoherent excuse as he grabbed a chipped mug from a cabinet. Although he felt her eyes on him, Chipp did not look at her until after he downed three consecutive glasses of sink water and at last rinsed most of the residual bitterness from his mouth. Only then did he set the mug aside and turn to meet Baiken's gaze.

"'Sup, Baik?"

Although she did not have his speed, Baiken moved quickly when she wanted to. Chipp could only remember her striding toward him and then him looking up from the floor. With the left side of his face numb, Chipp could infer what had happened even though he had no recollection of her actually backhanding him. Bright fireworks exploded behind his eyes and the world spun around him, adding to his overall nausea. Not for the first time he considered the advantages of passing out.

Baiken had other ideas and grabbed him by his collar before his eyes could slip shut. Yanking him to his feet, she jerked him awake even as vertigo left him disoriented and threatened to make him vomit. Chipp thought he heard Anji's exclamation of dismay, but at the moment Baiken's strong grip around his neck occupied most of his attention.

Because the woman did not have the height to dangle him in the air (but Chipp admired her damn fine attempt), he could lean against the counter and thus clung to it for support. Even as his knuckles whitened in a death grip on the laminate surface, Baiken held him in an effortless stranglehold. When she spoke, her voice sounded rough and cold from years of drinking, smoking and perhaps something else.

"Listen, Zanuff, I don't know what happened. I don't know what you're going through, and I don't know how you feel. But one thing I do know is that I don't give a fuck about any of that. You wanna fuck yerself over, well, don't do it when I'm around." She released him with a push that knocked Chipp to the floor. As she turned away, she added, "Asshole."

Using all his concentration, he wobbled to his feet but his feet felt like jelly and he failed to stand up straight. He could only balance with both hands resting on the counter. Chipp could not look up to meet Baiken's eyes, but he had no trouble hearing her words.

"'Che. You're so fucking weak, Zanuff. How did you get so goddamn weak?"

The ninja shrugged, forgetting that she had her back to him and could not see the gesture. He mumbled, "Didn't mean to. I just got tired of thinking."

When she backhanded him this time, he saw it coming but made no attempt to avoid the blow. He managed to bring his hands in front of his face before he fell to the floor again. After the stars cleared and he could again see, the ninja pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Chipp let his head lean against the side of the refrigerator but did not bother to get to his feet. When he made no further attempts to rise, Baiken stormed over to her seat and took a long swig from her tokkuri. She slammed the ceramic container on the table before not so much sitting as collapsing back into her seat. Although Chipp looked over at her, she ignored him and stared fixedly at the wall in front of her.

The faint hum of the fridge's motor provided reassuring familiarity, and Chipp closed his eyes, listening to the constant buzz and the uneven sound of Baiken's breathing. He felt rather than saw Anji bending over him and place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. With surprising compassion, he asked, "Need any help up, Chipp?"

Chipp cracked open an eye before letting it slide closed again. Even that took superhuman effort.

"Naw, 'm good."

Anji remained in place for a few moments, but when Chipp did not try to move, he also backed away. Chipp could hear him rummaging through the cupboard before padding over to the sink, his socks whispering over the tile. The sound of pouring water joined the refrigerator's hum as he filled a glass.

After taking a few gulps, Anji mentioned in an offhand tone, "Ky Kiske came to visit this morning."

Even though he made no attempt to respond, Chipp put all his energy into listening. Anji continued after a considering pause, "We made some excuses for you, but he made us let him into your room."

With a slow flutter, Chipp opened his eyes and saw that Anji still looked down at the sink. He did not glance over at Chipp as he said, "Kiske found an unmarked and empty pill bottle on the floor, and when I tried to explain, he insisted that we take you to the hospital. That was about when Baiken threatened to kill him and all his officers if he did any such thing. He backed down after that."

Chipp looked over at Baiken but she also did not meet his eyes. Although anger still distorted her features, she had visibly calmed since her initial outburst.

Anji pressed on when Chipp still did not reply. "Ah well, as awkward as it was, it did save us the trouble of explaining what really happened."

His memories still seemed blurred and distant, but Chipp remembered enough. He at last asked, "How did Kiske find out I was missing?"

Baiken and Anji exchanged surprised glances and when neither answered immediately, Chipp forced his mind to work harder. A sense of foreboding passed over him as he asked again, "I want to know how he found out. Mito? What happened? Did I get caught?"

When at last Anji looked over at him, he regarded Chipp with a stunned expression. "You really don't remember anything, do you?"

Chipp struggled to sit up further and only half succeeded. Unconsciously he leaned forward, and he could feel his heart hammering against his chest as he forced himself to recall last night. He had left the safe house and found the drugs but didn't have the patience to make it home; instead he found a quiet street alley and began his self-medication. And then the dreams began. Not the usual bad dreams that haunted his nights; instead these were peaceful but surreal – strangely vivid for codeine hallucinations.

"Anji, what happened?" Chipp managed in a husky voice.

Stumbling on his words as he always did when nervous, Anji tried to explain, "Chipp, you didn't get back here by yourself; you weren't doing so well last night. Baiken says that's what opiates do, and I'm really not much of an expert, but you could hardly stand, and so –"

As blunt and undiplomatic as ever, Baiken got to his point before Anji could. "Zanuff, how the hell do you know the head of the Assassin's Guild?"

Her words banished any drowsiness remaining from the codeine as effectively as any stimulant, and Chipp stared with wide-eyed disbelief at Baiken.

"Venom?" He blurted out in a shocked voice.

The two Japanese regarded each other again, and Chipp let his head fall back against the refrigerator. Blood pounding through his head, he squeezed his eyes shut.

_Oh fuck._

So Venom had dragged him to the safe house; the thought of it being a drug-induced vision was much more comforting. When drugs were involved, he could explain such absurdities; reality was trickier. Chipp did not know how the assassin had found him or why he decided to help. But whatever the reason, he again owed Venom despite his frustration at being in that man's debt.

"Chipp...you haven't, you know, worked for the Assassin's Guild, have you?" Anji asked with nervous hesitance.

Chipp leaned forward and rested his forehead in his hand. "Fuck no," he whispered.

"So are you...friends?"

Chipp gave him a blank stare before bursting into hollow laughter. When he brought his knees up to his chest, he rested his head against them – the gesture was comforting. As he clutched his legs, the laugh died away, and Chipp's humorless smile faded into a thoughtful frown, his brow creasing and lips pressed into a taut line.

The after-effects of codeine explained part of bone-numbing depression Chipp now felt smothering him, but he knew there was something more. Venom had questioned his master's integrity and served as a reminder of Tsuyoshi's death, of Chipp's loss and of his failures.

Too many failures, too many abandoned dreams.

Why didn't that man just leave him alone?

Chip did not realize he had risen to his feet and begun walking across the tiled floor until Baiken moved to stand in front of him.

"And where the fuck do yah think you're goin'?"

Even as he opened his mouth to say he did not know, Chipp realized he had already made up his mind, and he met her glare with his own weary look.

"You're right, Baiken. I fucked up bad. I didn't think and now things are more messed up. Sorry to put you through all this shit, but I gotta go. I want to..." He brushed a hand through his hair, feeling the right words on the tip of his tongue but unable to articulate them. "I can't stay here no more – I need to think. Tell Kiske whatever you want."

He brushed past the smaller woman toward his room, but he only made it halfway down the hallway before she barked out in a commanding voice, "Chipp!"

Chipp half-turned, and looked at her through the corner of his eye.

She managed a faint quirk of her lips that might have been a smile as she demanded, "When you get back, ya better be strong enough to beat me!"

Chipp's own smile held no warmth, but he nevertheless felt gratitude toward the older woman. With no conviction he replied, "Damn straight."

* * *

Although he had never excelled at meditation, Chipp could always find his center – his peace – when training. Emotions and distractions became distant as he fell into the rhythm of physical exertion. Focusing on the nuances of each movement for every second, he had no time to worry or to doubt. 

Kicking and punching with precision and speed that made up for his lack of raw physical power, Chipp could at last clear his head. A constant stream of ki flowed through him, calming his anxieties and bringing tranquility as he molded the raw surge of power into something usable.

He had traveled across Europe to reach a favorite training spot – a place deep in the forest rarely disturbed by humans. From the dense trees to the soft peat forest floor that required deft movements to balance, it had all the elements of the forest where Tsuyoshi had taught him but none of the bad memories.

The log he had hung to act as a target bounced and spun on a heavy rope that secured it to a tree branch, and although he did not have his arm blade attached, his punches left dents in the thick wood. His ki almost sang as it pulsed through him, and with each punch, each kick, it cleared his mind and heart.

In this moment he did not fear anyone, and he felt a calm certainty that he could defeat any opponent. Baiken, Kiske, perhaps even a monster like Sol Badguy or Testament – he found the inner strength of will that Tsuyoshi had described. If he could maintain this, if he could control it, he would have the power to save himself. Never would he have to rely on Anji or Baiken. Or Venom.

For an instant he lost focus and his punch hit at full force rather than with his controlled ki blasts. His fist smashed through the log, sending heavy splinters raining through the air as the little part still connected to the rope spun out of control. As it lashed through the air, the rope went taut and snapped at a frayed point. The piece jumped as if alive before crashing down at Chipp's feet, and he hastily leapt back to avoid it.

Even as it rolled to a stop, Chipp could feel throbbing pain cut through his hand and up his wrist. When he looked down to assess the injury, he saw deep gashes crisscrossing his knuckles. With a curse he brought the injured hand to his lips and sucked at the wound, pulling small splinters out with his teeth.

For the first time in a long time, he missed his master with an all-consuming intensity that made him want to cry. Tsuyoshi's absence from his life had created a gap that could never mend, and he felt this hole as sharply as he had back then on the day his teacher died.

Once Tsuyoshi had claimed that he taught everything Chipp needed to know, and while he never suspected his master of lying, Chipp could never stop needing his master. He was the first family that Chipp ever had – the first family that had not turned him away or dismissed him as too stupid or too weak – and Chipp floundered without that support.

Part of him wanted to shout or collapse – anything to stop those ragged emotions from tearing at his insides – but he could do neither. His face remained dry and his throat too tight to breathe, and he did not move. The other's death had left him hollow, and as Chipp let his injured hand drop – injury forgotten – a wave of emptiness rolled through him.

Lost in this loneliness, a voice caught Chipp of guard, and he spun around at the sound of a kid's voice. "Wow, that was a pretty powerful punch, Mister. You're actually really strong!"

A blonde girl in a blue nun's habit sat on a fallen tree trunk. She had what looked like a giant handcuff around her waist and a yo-yo and teddy bear attached to it. Despite the outlandish outfit and distinctive features, it took Chipp a moment to clear his head enough to place her face.

"Hey, you're that kid that tried to arrest me!"

The kid looked pleased and hopped up from her seat. "You remember me!" She exclaimed in a delighted voice. "Yup, I'm Bridget, an up-and-coming world class bounty hunter! I know you from my list of terrorists and criminals, Mr. Chipp Zanuff."

Chipp rolled his eyes. "Dammit, not this again. You gonna try to arrest me like last time?"

Bridget rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment. "Um, well I'm not sure this list is correct anymore, but I figure I ought to go ahead and capture you, just in case."

Turning away, Chipp rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look kid, I spent two weeks babysitting on the May Ship, and I really don't got time for this. Can't you see I'm in the middle of training? Why don't you go play with somebody else?"

The girl wrinkled her nose into a pout and crossed her arms. "I'm not playing; I'm a bounty hunter like Sol Badguy! Only I'm gonna be ten times better than him when I grow up."

As he assessed the kid, Chipp couldn't help an incredulous look. "You ever seen Sol Badguy, kiddo?"

"Um, well, not exactly, but how tough can he be?'

Chipp could remember his first glimpse of the man at the Second Knight's Tournament. The ninja had not made it to the finals, but he stayed long enough to see the rebirth of Justice. The mother Gear, hateful and thirsting for vengeance, had a destructive power that Chipp could hardly fathom. As she stood there amid the wreckage, arms crossed in arrogant disdain, his fear had made it impossible to move.

And yet Sol Badguy had remained unflinching before her fury, and that day Chipp had seen Sol Badguy's true form – eyes glowing and body engulfed in flame. In that moment Chipp had realized that the legendary bounty hunter was more than human, more than a Gear. Sol Badguy was a monster.

Chipp considered the petite little girl that sat in front of him, and he thought about the raw power that practically sizzled in the air around Sol Badguy. At last he decided, "Kid, Badguy's probably stronger than me, so I know he's a hellavuh lot stronger than you."

Bridget uncrossed her slender arms and rested her chin on the heel of her hand. At last she conceded, "You are pretty strong...or at least, you're really fast and you fight okay. So if you think that Mr. Badguy is really impressive, he must be. I should probably talk to him to see how he became so manly."

Chipp blinked, "What do you want to know that for?"

Now it was Bridget's turn to roll her eyes. "Because I need tips! As it is, no one believes that I'm a guy."

"You're...a guy?"

Bridget hopped to her...his feet and stormed over to Chipp, glaring up at the much taller man. "Of course I'm a guy! That's why I decided to become a bounty hunter – to prove my masculinity."

Chipp couldn't stop the laughter that escaped from his mouth, and what started out as a light chuckle turned into a uproarious guffaw as Bridget's face turned more and more sour.

"Heheh, y-you wanna prove your, haha, masculinity? Hahaha! Ahahaha!" Bridget kicked him in the shins but that only made the ninja laugh harder. Chipp continued as tears of mirth appeared at the corners of his eyes, "Shit kid, I, heh, I got a few pointers. Heeheehee. First off you probably should ditch the girly clothes and the stuffed animal."

A look of horror crossed Bridget's face, and he involuntarily patted the teddy bear by his side. "Roger is my bestest friend, and you better not underestimate him!" Looking down at his short shorts and dress-like shirt, Bridget conceded, "But maybe you're right about the clothes. Mum and Dad always said I should wear these, but they don't really show off my muscles."

Hiding his disbelief of these supposed muscles, Chipp put on his best poker face. "Yeah, kid, manly men hafta show off their muscles." He flexed his arm, which rippled with the efforts of his training.

The boy's face grew bright again and he gave Chipp a big smile. "Yeah! I should go bare-chested and have a bandanna or something instead of this." He pulled off his habit revealing short hair behind his long bangs, but the haircut did little to increase his masculinity. As he studied the cloth, Bridget mourned, "But this did such a good job of keeping the sun off, and it's really comfy."

A solemn expression on his face, Chipp rested a hand on Bridget's shoulder. "Kid, my master was the greatest fighter in the world – ten times better than any Sol Badguy – and he always told me that you can only achieve your dreams if you follow them down the path you choose. That means that you can't listen to nobody else – it's up to you to find what you're looking for.

"You want to be manly? Then you gotta do it your way. Don't listen to me or Sol or nobody. Do what you think is right no matter what."

"You really think I can become manly?" The boy asked with a shy smile.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Just go for it and don't give up even if no one else believes."

Bridget threw his arms around Chipp's waist in a spontaneous hug, and the ninja uncertainly patted his head.

"I'm so glad I didn't arrest you and decided to talk instead. Thanks, old man!"

Chipp's eyebrow twitched, "Who you calling 'old man?'"

"I'm gonna wear these clothes no matter what anyone says!"

"Look, I just turned twenty-one, so you shouldn't call me an old man."

Sticking out his tongue, Bridget exclaimed, "I can call you 'old man' if I want! After all, you said I don't have to listen to you!"

"Why you! C'mere you brat. I'm gonna teach you to respect your elders!"

As Chipp swiped at him, Bridget produced his yo-yo and with a deft flick of his wrist sent it crashing into Chipp's forehead. The ninja stumbled back, smarting from the blow, and a trickle of blood appeared at his hairline.

"That's it! I'm gonna kill you!"

With a jump back, the boy laughed and lightly balanced the yo-yo on his fingertips. He undoubtedly thought it was a game, not realizing that Chipp seriously considered not pulling his punches. Too bad for him.

The ninja moved forward with blazing speed, but abruptly stopped short. Bridget blinked as did Chipp himself, who stood only a inches from the boy, fist pulled back and a questioning look on his face. The two exchanged surprised glances until Chipp burst into laughter again. As he lowered his fist, Chipp shook with sudden amusement.

"Old man, are you okay?" The look Bridget gave him was one of utmost concern.

The ninja ruffled Bridget's hair with growing fondness. "Yeah, kid, I'm cool. I just realized that I really was acting like an old man."

When Chipp dropped his hand and began to walk away, Bridget moued and tried to straighten his hair. He complained, "That's what I've been saying all along! But don't worry, we can be friends anyway."

Chipp gave him a thumbs up. "Sure, kiddo. Now I gotta go. It's like I was saying, you hafta follow your path, even if you make mistakes or screw up."

The young bounty hunter looked at him with hopeful eyes. "Does that mean I can arrest you now?"

Chipp shrugged him off and continued to move forward. "Maybe later. I got things to do."

"Like what?"

"Like fuck up everyone in the Postwar Administration Bureau."

"Oh!" After a thoughtful pause Bridget brightened and added, "Sounds like fun! Good bye, Mr. Zanuff!"

He waved as Chipp disappeared into the dense surrounding woods. Even after the ninja had vanished from sight, Bridget remained in place, idly doing tricks with his yo-yo. At last he looked down at Roger with a solemn expression.

"What do you think, Roger? Should we have told him that we work for the Bureau?" After a pause, Bridget agreed, "I think you're right. Let's get ice cream!"

* * *

Steve burst into Dr. Francesco's office without knocking – never a good sign. In one hand he held a ballpoint pen and in the other a stack of computer printouts. Francesco looked up from a recently submitted report and arched an eyebrow at his assistant's haste. 

"Well?"

It took Steve a moment to catch his breath, and as he wheezed, he shoved the pages at his boss. Francesco flipped through the first few pages before looking up in exasperation.

"Just tell me what happened, Steve." He gestured to the paper, "You were working with the MK2s and they malfunctioned?"

After a few more deep breaths, Steve managed, "Yes, I mean, no. Mechanically they're fine, sir."

Francesco hid his frown by shuffling some other papers around his desk. He and Steve had worked together long enough that they were on a first-name basis. Steve only called him "sir" when he was at fault or something had gone very wrong.

With a bland look, Francesco asked his assistant, "So what is the problem?"

A confused flush spread across Steve's face as he blurted out, "None of our programmers understand! They claim it's not in the coding at all and these readouts confirm that, but it's still happening! No one knows why, but we can't get them to stop!"

Francesco sat up, suddenly alert. If the fail-safes on the MK2s did not function, the whole facility could be in danger. "Steve, for God's sake, what are they doing!"

His assistant ripped off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, frustration now clearly visible on his face. "It's not what they're doing; it's what they're not doing. They refuse to take the tests! They actually refused!"

The head scientist could only blink as the implications of Steve's words sunk in. When he found his voice, he asked in a hesitant voice, "They...don't want to work?"

Visibly sagging, Steve pulled up a chair and slumped into it. Francesco had never seen his top assistant so upset, but if this were true...

"They're making demands," Steve seemed to struggle with the concept. "They actually want us to pay them."

Francesco managed to keep his excitement hidden as he asked in a neutral voice, "Money?"

"No. What would they need money for? They want information." When his boss looked at him expectantly, Steve added, "You know – why they exist, what they are – the usual existential bullcrap."

"Then tell them. Something, anything. What does it matter as long as they do as they're told?"

Steve hesitated again. "There's more. They don't want to do simulations; they want actual field experience."

"They want to fight?"

"Yes, but only the top fighters from our database. They seem particularly interested in Ky Kiske."

Francesco wanted to shout with excitement. Steve was afraid and rightfully so, but more than fear, Dr. Francesco felt joy and exhilaration. Zepp had always held him back, refusing to fund him while the various human right groups cited him on ethics. Ethics! When Zepp spent over two thirds of its budget on weapons development!

At last he could prove himself – prove he was more than some evil genius scientific crank. The MK2s would be his greatest experiment yet – even greater than the A.B.A Project, although the research on it had proved invaluable in his current work. If the Nobel Prize still existed, Dr. Francesco would surely have received one.

"Um, what should I do?" Steve's voice interrupted his reverie, and the research coordinator gave his assistant a sour look. People who feared the unknown would never make cutting edge discoveries.

"Isn't it obvious? We get Ky Kiske, of course."


	13. And Pick up the Pieces

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari

**Chapter 13: And Pick up the Pieces**

* * *

Seeing Chipp's almost beatific expression as he sit on the roof made Venom marvel at his current tranquility. The ninja wore a high-collared black cloak over his usual jacket and had crossed his booted feet in front of him. With his eyes closed, Chipp's youthful features became more apparent as they smoothed into a look of peace. The more cynical part of the assassin wondered if the change stemmed from Chipp's latest drug of choice, but a closer look revealed an alertness that suggested complete control over his senses. 

When Venom shifted his feet to announce his presence, he did it out of politeness rather than the belief that Chipp had not already identified him, as even from this distance he could see the tension appear in the ninja's back – years of training forcing him alert in a heartbeat. Although Chipp's legs remained crossed and his hands barely stirred, he cracked open a single red eye to give Venom an almost accusatory look.

"The fuck do you want?"

Venom moved before he could stop himself, bridging the substantial distance between them and yanking Chipp up by the front of his shirt. Although Venom only intended to yell at the other man, Chipp's sullen expression set his teeth on edge and before he could stop himself, Venom had cocked back his arm.

The punch hit Chipp across the face, and while Venom did not strike with all his strength, neither did he hold back. He meant the blow both as a warning and recompense, and the force of it sent the younger man sprawling back against the tile shingles and sliding down the slant of the roof.

Hooking a hand around a tile, Chipp pulled himself to an awkward stop, and once no longer in motion, he pushed himself to his knees before raising tentative fingers to brush over his cheekbone. Even in the moon's dim light, Venom could see the growing redness that would soon form a bruise, but Chipp looked neither surprised nor angry at the wound.

Instead he muttered something under his breath that sounded to Venom like, "De ja vu."

"What?" Venom blinked in confusion, his initial anger already fading as Chipp's unexpected response caught him off guard.

Rising to his feet, Chipp brushed at his pants before meeting Venom's uncertain stare with his own wry expression. "Nothin'. But I gotta say, man, I think Baiken hits harder."

The image of that short woman with her wild hair and angry eyes floated through his mind, and Venom conceded, "I hope never to find out how hard she hits."

Chipp managed a ghost of his usual grin before making his way back up the apex of the roof. When he joined Venom at the top, he crouched down and looked away from the assassin to study the streets below them. His words were soft and matter-of-fact, but Venom could here their strain.

"You keep following me around. That's kinda weird, you know?"

"Hmph." Venom turned away and crossed his arms, feeling equal amounts of embarrassment and annoyance. "What could I hope to gain from that? Your company is not so charming that I'd seek it out. Last week I was on an assignment and just happened to find you. You looked like you needed some assistance, but in hind's sight I should have left you."

Although Venom could not see Chipp, he pictured the other's sarcastic snarl and tightened fists as the ninja's voice hissed at him, "An assassin with a heart of gold? That's fucking lame."

Turning on his heels to glare at the ninja's back, Venom considered a well-placed kick to the head that would knock Chipp off the roof and send him sprawling into the mud below. But when he noticed the katana strapped across the other's back, he decided against it.

A deep breath helped him further restrain his temper but he replied in a snappish tone, "You know nothing about me, Zanuff. I was born to this profession; I had no choice in the matter. Once I might have even chosen death over a life like this, but I..." Venom thought about Zato's piercing gaze and kind smile. He remembered the promise he made to his lord on the day they met. "But now it is too late," Venom finished in a harsh whisper.

His hair stirred in the soft city breeze and he heard a rustle of fabric as the ninja shifted but Chipp did not answer. He remained crouched with his shoulders hunched and his head down for so long that Venom wondered if Chipp had chosen to ignore him, but at last he caught the ninja's faint words, spoken in little more than a hushed whisper.

"I'm sorry."

Chipp added nothing, but Venom had nothing to say; silence again descended as they stood like two opposing statues. The ninja's eyes fixed on the ground, and Venom continued to gaze at the horizon while each struggled with his own thoughts. Even with the clear sky, the town's lights made the stars all but invisible and only a sliver of the moon shone down upon the rooftops. Its light struck cold and pale, making the edges of the tiles glow in the soft beams.

The two men stood high enough off the ground that the sounds of nightlife seemed muffled and distant; echoes of voices and the wail of a siren floated to their ears as faint, disconnected noises. Venom closed his eyes with a sigh. It should have been a peaceful night, but even the crisp evening breeze now felt oppressive to him. From a few paces away he could sense the smoldering displeasure that radiated from Chipp, and he considered the difference between the ninja's current brooding mood and his normal hot-tempered fervor.

Memories of that night returned to him, as well as memories of Chipp's weight against his side. Although the ninja had been cumbersome, Venom recalled the touch of his skin – clammy from drug use but still warm underneath – and the soft sounds of his shallow breath. But in addition to the physical reaction these sensations caused, Venom had felt something deeper that he could not blame on loneliness or hormones – something closer to sympathy.

Now as he studied the other's back, he experienced an echo of that feeling, even as his assassin's training balked against it. During his youth, Venom had received many beatings for such emotions, and he recalled the words of his teachers as well as Zato himself.

_On or off an assignment, assassins do not sympathize with anyone._ _There is no place for pity in their actions or thoughts. Never._

Of all the Guild members, he should have known this by now.

With a guilty start, Venom realized he had made a mistake in confronting Chipp. The ninja had become a liability to him long ago, and although he understood the danger, Venom chose to ignore it for the sake of companionship. In doing so he had not only ignored his responsibilities to the Guild but to Zato's memory as well. It was time to acknowledge his transgression and correct this mistake; it was time to leave.

Venom automatically began to back away – first one hesitant step then another more decisive one. But as he pivoted on his heel to turn away, Chipp's voice cut through him and his decision and he froze mid-step.

"Why did you come here?"

With an unwilling glance over his shoulder, Venom caught Chipp's piercing gaze. His eyes, like his voice, held quiet anger and humiliation, and Venom recalled well his own personal humiliations and angers. He understood how the two emotions fed on each other – always growing, always hurting – and felt another of empathy, overriding feelings of guilt or discomfort.

Empathy was the most dangerous emotion of all for an assassin, but he owed Chipp an explanation just as he owed it to himself to be honest. Once the ninja had accused him of running away, but this time he would not flee; he would not feign ignorance. Venom forced himself to meet the other's eyes, which still burned with raw, barely contained energy.

Although he opened his mouth to speak, no words came out at first. His eyes slid away from Chipp's stare, and like a protective layer, his hair shifted to conceal his face further. When he finally found his voice, he could only draw out the words after careful deliberation and long pauses of thought.

"I had my operatives locate you to make sure you were still alive." When Chipp said nothing, Venom gave him a defensive glare as he added, "It would be silly to let you die after I wasted so much time helping you."

The other merely scowled, "I'm alive."

Venom returned the scowl but managed in a conciliatory tone, "Ciena asks about you. She wants to know if you're doing well."

Chipp shifted his weight but did not rise. He seemed to fall deep in thought as he tried to associate a name with a face. "Ciena? That's the girl who took care of me, right? I remember her; she did a great job. Tell her I said hi."

The hesitation disappeared and the words came out before Venom realized he had answered, "You could tell her yourself."

Chipp twisted his head around and directed an incredulous stare at Venom, but the assassin only shrugged as he continued, "She seems to be under the impression that you and I are friends, so she'd undoubtedly welcome the visit. Also...also the library doesn't get much use these days. It's a shame, really, considering the size of our collection."

After a pause, a disbelieving voice asked, "Are you trying to recruit me?" And while the ninja's countenance turned dark, his tone became less severe.

Venom directed his own disdainful glance at the other but felt relief as he declared, "You'd make a lousy assassin, Zanuff. You can't keep your big mouth shut."

"Hn." Chipp jutted out his chin as he turned away. When he crossed his arms, Venom got the distinct impression of a child pouting.

But child or no, the ninja retorted in an acid tone, "Says the sissy boy who doesn't like to kill people."

For the second time that night, Venom assessed the distance between them and contemplated kicking the other off the ledge. Tempting as it was, he settled for the less violent approach and growled back, "And yet I seem to remember beating you in our last fight."

As expected, Chipp rose to the bait, pushing himself to his feet in a fluid motion as he whirled around to face Venom. Although the sky remained dark, Venom thought he saw a flush of pink spread across Chipp's face, distinct on his pale cheeks. For a fraction of a second, Venom wondered if Chipp would strike out at him in his embarrassment, but instead of attacking, the ninja merely shook his fist and denied the victory.

"A lucky hit! Ch', and I was playin' nice too!"

As Venom chuckled, he tilted his head down to hide a growing smile beneath his mask of hair. Chipp saw this and became more indignant; he pointed an accusatory finger at the older man. "And anyway, I beat you the first time fair and square, so don't you forget it!"

The beginnings of his chuckle turned into a bark of laughter and Venom mock bowed in return. "Of course I will not forget. You are, after all, a future president. Correct?"

Chipp's face again turned serious, and Venom realized he just hit another nerve. But this was not the brooding reticence that Venom had sensed earlier in the other man. It was the solemn disquietude of a warrior before battle, and he merely waited for Chipp to explain.

The ninja fell deep in thought as he took the time to find the right words. He studied his fist, unconsciously flexing and unflexing his arm in time with some internal conflict. When Chipp finally spoke in a soft voice, Venom listened with surprise.

"Hey, Venom. You ever heard of the Postwar Administration Bureau?"

Narrowing his eyes, Venom shook some of the hair out of his face so he could regard Chipp more closely. "The Bureau? I've head the rumors, but to my knowledge the Assassin's Guild has had little direct contact with them. How do you know about that organization?"

"They captured me. They...did something to me so I would follow their orders." Chipp had a haunted look when he at last met Venom's eyes. "I hunted down women and children. I tried to kill my best friend."

Venom exhaled a thoughtful breath as he considered this new information. Although he had heard the stories, the Bureau had yet to affect his Guild directly, and he had more pressing concerns with Slayer's return and the disappearance of Guild members. Yet he had heard a name – a rumored project – and he tried to recall the details of it. His recollections remained fuzzy and distant – hardly more than passing trivia compared to other Guild business – but as soon as the memory returned, the name slipped off his tongue.

"The MK2 Project."

Chipp cocked his head with curiosity but gave a doubtful shake of his head. "MK2? Never heard of it."

The assassin himself knew very little, but he tried his best to explain, "The Guild knows about it only in the broadest sense. When we heard that a group wanted to develop sentient weapons – less than Gears but more than humans – we sent a team to investigate. We do not care if people or organizations build weapons, but if they build weapons for the purpose of assassination, they must answer to the Assassin's Guild.

"The Bureau's representative assured us that they had no intention of competing with the Assassin's Guild and signed a contract stating that a percentage of any profit made on assassinations would return to the Guild. I know almost nothing beyond that as it did not concern us."

Venom did not expect the look of astonishment on Chipp's face, but after considering his words, Venom realized he should have foreseen it. The ninja stared at him with both disgust and horror, and Venom could hear the unspoken word hovering in the air.

_Monster_.

Chipp struggled to speak as if he found the concept inconceivable. "You're telling me that as long as people don't kill without giving you a piece of the cut, you don't give a damn?"

With a shake of his head, Venom clarified, "Not kill – anyone can kill if they have the will and the power. We only care about assassinations – professional killings done under a business contract. By our founding guidelines, this right is reserved for the Guild alone, and all assassins fall under our jurisdiction."

Now the revulsion became apparent on Chipp's face. "That's...that's fucking sick!"

Venom merely shrugged. Perhaps once he would have shared Chipp's disgust for such callous thinking, but the years had taught him to regard Guild politics with cool detachment. He wondered if it should frighten him how natural it all seemed.

"As I said, we have no choice. For us it is...business."

Chipp looked angry and eyed Venom as if wanting to start another fight. But other concerns outweighed his indignation, and with visible effort he managed to master his temper. But he could not contain the anger in his voice as he spoke through gritted teeth

"So you think the Robo-Kys brainwashed me for this project?"

"Robo-Kys?" The strange name remained distinct in his memory, and Venom nodded, "Yes, I heard something about those. They are prototypes for the MK2s." After another thoughtful pause, he decided, "If they kidnapped you, it is likely that the Bureau needs subjects to further their research."

Any of the anger previously directed at Venom now focused solely on the Bureau, and Chipp snarled, "I knew it. I fucking knew it. I'll never forgive those fuckers!"

Chipp began to pace, turning after every couple of steps so that he resembled a caged animal. His fists clenched tight enough that Venom could see the blue veins bulging under almost translucent skin – his lips curled back to reveal a fanged snarl. When Chipp stopped moving, he gave the assassin a fierce glare of defiance mixed with rage as he declared, "Venom, before I can become president, I hafta destroy this menace. I'm going to take out all the Robo-Kys before the Bureau can finish the MK2s."

Venom felt his eyebrows rise. "Surely that is an impossible task for one person."

Ignoring the mild caution of the words, Chipp slammed his fist into his hand. "Then I'll die trying! Not just for my sake – for everyone they've hurt. It's not just me they went after, you know. They targeted everyone from the Knight's Tournament, or at least that's what the police think."

Venom kept his face carefully neutral at this information. Both Zato and Millia had entered the Second Tournament, and while Zato was beyond both help and harm, the former-assassin fugitive would provide an easy target for the Bureau.

Even as he felt a shadow of concern for her well being, Venom reminded himself that he had no obligation to that woman. In fact the death warrant that Zato had placed on her was still in effect, and it was Venom's duty to fulfill it. And yet...

And yet he remembered the times before her betrayal. As Zato's top lieutenants, they often worked together, but their relationship went deeper than that. He had always felt a kinship with the quiet woman, even as Zato's love for her tore Venom apart. While he kept to the solitude of the library, Millia would pace the corridors outside, face neutral and mind faraway as she gazed at the paintings and statues lining the walls. When they met, they almost never spoke but instead took silent comfort in the other's presence.

His feelings toward her remained tangled and ambivalent – the hatred and envy mixing with affection and admiration. Although he could not explain or justify the emotions, he knew with certainty that she did not deserve the torture or dog's death that the Bureau would deliver. When the time came, Venom would do the deed himself, taking her life with a single quick blow – a true assassin's kill. He owed her that much.

Images of Millia vanished from his thoughts as Chipp stated, "I need to find that factory. And if anyone can do it, you can."

With a blink of surprise, Venom shook his head. "The Guild cannot become involved. The Bureau has too much power, and I will not risk our current neutral position in this affair."

The ninja refused to accept this explanation and took a step toward the other. "But...you have to!" Venom did not answer except for a slight tilt of his head that conveyed his skepticism. The ninja stuttered on, "Because-because...just because! They hafta pay for what they've done."

A faint smile quirked Venom's lips and he noted in a dry tone, "But everyone has to pay, no? What about my sins? Shouldn't you punish me as well in that case?"

Chipp gave him a blank stare. "But that's different. It ain't right killing people, but at least you're honest. This Postwar Administration Bureau, all they do is trick everybody. You can't deal with that type. And I don't know exactly what they want, but I'm sure they won't stop at anything until they get it."

Chipp's naiveté made his amusement grow, and Venom widened his smile – his eyebrows creased with something close to affection. "Still very much Tsuyoshi's pupil, I see."

Venom recalled Chipp's previous reaction to that name, even as the ninja became very still. While Chipp was touchy about most things, few things genuinely affected him – Tsuyoshi being the primary exception. Venom should have known better than to bring up the other's beloved master, and the name "Tsuyoshi" now hung ominously in the air. The men regarded each other with sudden wariness, and Chipp's silence made Venom expect the worst. Yet the moment passed and Chipp gave a slow nod; Venom relaxed muscles that he hadn't realized had tightened.

The ninja managed in a surprisingly even tone, "Tsuyoshi taught me justice, and I ain't gonna abandon his teachings. Maybe I didn't know him so well, but whoever he was, he was my master and a great man. That's enough for me."

Even as he finished speaking, Chipp looked away with chagrin; his fists clenched at his sides as his shoulders hunched in vexation. Venom also lowered his head with a feeling of shame. The time had come for him to tell the entire truth.

"Chipp, that day we fought...I spoke of Tsuyoshi. Do you remember?"

The sky was becoming lighter, but Venom did not need daybreak to notice the ninja's head shoot up and his eyes bore into him. Embarrassment and anger had faded, leaving an expressionless mask on Chipp's face, and Venom half-wondered how a man who wore his heart on his sleeve could have such an excellent poker face.

Venom continued in the same cautious tone, "It is true that he worked for the Assassin's Guild, but he was not like us – he was never a real assassin. From the beginning he had been an undercover agent, sent to infiltrate our ranks and undermine our power. When Zato found out, he gave the order to eliminate him. That was why the Guild killed Tsuyoshi."

Venom could hear the ninja's gasp – little more than a sharp intake of breath – and he imagined that the other's face drain of its already pale color. But Chipp remained silent, and Venom peered more closely to see his face still inscrutable. Only a gleam in those sharp eyes revealed the inner turmoil, and although Venom could not quite meet the other's gaze, he could sense the dangerous mood his words had created.

When Chipp spoke at last, Venom heard an undercurrent of emotion in his voice that broke the illusion of calm. "Did you...were you one of the ones that killed him?"

Venom half turned away but managed to meet Chipp's eyes as he gave a tiny shake of his head. "No, I was not. Tsuyoshi was...a good man. I never saw him act in a cruel way and although he always seemed distant, he treated everyone with kindness.

"We played chess together. He was very good, but when he won, he would tell me why I lost. He always seemed proud of me when I did beat him." Venom paused before finishing, "Even after his betrayal, I considered Tsuyoshi a friend."

"A friend, huh?" Chipp considered this before looking Venom over anew, and the assassin could see the other's respect for him increase. Yet a hint of suspicion still entered Chipp's eyes and voice as he asked, "But...if Zato had ordered you personally to kill him...would you have done it?"

Venom did not answer; he merely regarded Chipp with a long, considering look. In truth he did not know, just as he did not know what he would do if someone marked Chipp Zanuff for death. Even as the question floated through his mind, he knew that he could not answer it. He did not want to think about such a situation – at least not until he had to. That was the nature of his business.

With a slight shake of his head, Venom dismissed the unpleasant thoughts and ignored the question. He said instead, "I cannot promise that I'll look into the MK2 facilities, but if I need to tell you something, I will find you."

Venom turned and began to walk toward the other end of the roof. His soft steps barely made a sound, but he heard no noise at all coming from the other man. Although the ninja could have disappeared already, Venom somehow knew that he had not moved at all. When the assassin reached the other end of the roof, his steps faltered and he paused, turning to look one last time at Chipp. As he suspected the man still watched him, an expression of deep contemplation having replaced his previous flat glare. Chipp blinked in uncertainty as Venom assessed him.

At last the assassin asked in a hesitant voice, "Are you...angry at me for lying? For slandering Tsuyoshi's name?"

Chipp shook his head without hesitation. "I was stupid to believe it. I shouldn't have doubted Master Tsuyoshi, even for a second. But," Chipp met Venom's eyes, and for all his outward control, Venom could see that Chipp was deeply troubled. "I'm glad that I know the truth now."

Venom remained silent and the ninja added in a quiet murmur, "Thank you."

Blinking in confusion, Venom answered, "You're welcome." But Chipp had already disappeared.

* * *

Sol sat in a dark booth along the far end of the bar, isolated from both the windows and the people. Glasses littered the table in front of him, and he sipped his whiskey with the intent expression of a man with a mission. Sullen eyes and the slight slump of his shoulders actively discouraged any friendly advances from the other patrons, so he felt a moment of surprise with someone slipped into the seat across from him. As his eyes flicked across the other's features, he gave the man a glare of recognition. 

"Oh, it's you."

The other man laced his fingers in front of a bearded chin, returning a faint smile from behind his hands. "As irritable as ever, Fredrick."

Sol's eyes narrowed into glowing slits and he carefully set his current glass on the table. "Don't call me that, old man."

The other's slight bow made the light glint off his monocle, and Slayer acquiesced, "As you wish, Sol Badguy."

With a sigh of annoyance, Sol leaned back and crossed his arms. "You want something?"

"A drink would be nice. I prefer red wine," Slayer admitted.

As he cracked his neck with disdain, Sol growled, "This ain't a fucking date, gramps. You got something to say or are you just trying to piss me off?"

"Now now, no need to get touchy." Slayer pulled out his pipe and struck a match on the table. After lighting it and taking a few puffs, he added, "You should be more friendly; it's amazing what you can learn just by wearing a smile."

Sol found Slayer's current grin more unnerving than pleasant and regarded him with disbelief. "I know enough without sucking up to a bunch of punks."

Blowing out another trail of smoke, Slayer gave him a look of surprise. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry! Then there's no need to tell you about the latest development in the MK2 Project."

He began to rise, making as if to leave, but Sol grabbed him by the sleeve. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Slayer gave the offending hand a disdainful look and wrenched his arm free. After a calculated pause, he brushed at the cloth as if Sol had left a stain. When he again took his seat, Slayer's brown eyes gleamed red in the dim light. A look of predatory amusement spread across the vampire's face and Sol's hand itched to reach for Fireseal. With effort he restrained himself and forced his fingers to clench around his drink instead.

Slayer continued in a lazy voice as if he had not noticed Sol's growing anger, "It seems the project has reached its final stages and they want to test out the MK2s. They even have a very special instructor lined up."

Sol immediately caught on to Slayer's hint and stated in a flat tone, "Kiske."

The vampire looked at him with condescending surprise. "Indeed! Mr. Badguy, you are very good at this game."

After downing the last bit of his drink, Sol slammed the empty glass onto the table and rose from his seat. When he took Fireseal into hand, he popped his back with a roll of his shoulders.

"I don't play other people's games." Tossing the hair out of his eyes, Sol added, "I know it's too much to hope for you dying, but stay out of my way for the next few centuries, got it?"

He turned his back to Slayer, but the vampire's words forced him to remain in place.

"It seems there's a leak in the International Police Force – a very nice arrangement, really. At least for the Postwar Administration Bureau. Ky Kiske chases shadows for nearly a year, safely out of the way, but he's right at hand – ready for when they need him in the not-too-distant future."

"So what?" Sol asked, turned just enough to see Slayer's seated form from the corner of his eye. "Even that kid can handle a few tin cans."

Although he could not see the vampire's smile, he could feel it itching against his back. "Maybe, maybe not. I guess that would all depend on how well those scientists have done their job, yes? They're not as good as you, of course, but from what I've observed these ones have at least some talent."

Sol muttered, "I'm no scientist."

"Of course not. In any case, I must take my leave of you – I promised Sharon I'd be home early, you see. Goodbye, Fredrick."

Sol whirled around with a snarl, "I said don't call me – " He looked at the now empty seat, no sign of Slayer except for a rapidly dissipating cloud of smoke in the already dusky air. With an exasperated shake of his head, he made his way toward the exit.

"Fucking vampire."


	14. Mission Start

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari

* * *

**Chapter 14: Mission Start**

As he picked his way through the ruins, Venom tried to imagine the city as it had once stood. Gears had demolished Petersburg long before his lifetime, but Millia once showed him a book filled with engravings of the Winter Palace. Although well protected in the Guild's library, the book had faded over the centuries and its delicate pages crumbled when mishandled. Still this had not dimmed the great palace's radiance in the pictures, and Venom had often marveled at that place with its incomparable treasures.

Now only a handful of collapsing buildings and streets clogged with dust and debris remained in the Crusade's aftermath. Venom surveyed Palace Square – where the Gears had rent the very earth – and the Neva River had flooded the place before him where the palace should have stood.

Venom looked upon the hints of grandeur and felt a deep sadness at the destruction. All the pictures, all the jewels and artifacts had been lost – looted over the years since the Gears' defeat or destroyed during the Crusades. Petersburg had become a cursed city – broken beyond repair and consigned to dreams and memory.

From behind a pile of rubble, a slinky cat – lithe and black – loped out to meet him. Its soft paws whispered across the rocks as it came over and rubbed its side against his shins. Venom gave it a sympathetic smile as the cat looked up with demanding yellow eyes and meowed. With one hand free, he bent over to stroke it, and in response the cat arched its back, swishing its tail with satisfaction.

Venom reached down to pick up the creature, but the cat froze and wariness replaced contentment. Its eyes flickered across the square and as Venom turned to follow its gaze, the cat bound away – fur rippling across its shoulders and haunches.

The assassin saw only a blur of motion from the corner of his eye and he straightened, bringing his weapon up in automatic defense. Energy disks aimed at his torso sliced through the air, but he turned them aside with quick snaps of his pool cue.

Having blocked the last one, Venom looked around with intent eyes but did not relax his stance. Near the edge of the square stood a slender woman, and her hair rippled as if in a slight breeze. But Venom knew better.

Shifting his grip on the stick, Venom greeted her in a neutral tone, "Millia."

The woman regarded him with indifference, but he heard a hint of anger in her normally collected voice, "You should not have come, Venom."

With that as her only warning, she rushed toward him – zigzagging between piles of rubble for cover. Although he followed her movements, she moved fast enough that he had little time to react, and strands of yellow hair curled around his cue before he could sidestep the assault. With a swing of her head she nearly wrenched the weapon from his grasp and he stumbled toward her to maintain his grip.

Even as one hand slipped, Venom tightened his hold with the other. Gritting his teeth, he snapped his free hand at the wrist, and a small blast of energy emanated from the summoned cue ball. When it struck Millia across the sternum, she backpedaled – releasing him from her hair as she gasped for breath. As the ball rolled off his fingertips, Venom used the opportunity to leap away, back flipping past the range of her hair.

"I am not here to fight you, Millia Rage."

Annoyance flickered across her face but rather than respond, she launched herself into a high jump. The hair wrapped around her, turning the frail woman into a living weapon and she came down spinning upon him. Rather than block, he teleported into the air above her, narrowly missing the razor strands of hair, as she landed in a crouch.

This left her vulnerable for only an instant, but Venom moved quickly. While he truly had not come to fight, he had no chance of survival remaining defensive. She darted out of the way when he jabbed his pole downward, but as his feet hit the ground, Venom turned into another back flip. This time he felt his foot connect with flesh and heard an accompanying grunt of pain.

Even as she fell back, her hair blossomed into a mass of spikes and struck him across his hand and arm. She tucked into a roll and came to her feet, as the cue slipped from Venom's fingers and blood sprang to the surface of his skin. With his uninjured arm he lunged forward to grab the falling weapon, and having closed his hand around it, Venom pivoted back on guard. Only after he stopped moving did he feel painful prickles across his arm and a spasm run through the muscles in his hand. Her sentient hair – the Angra – cut sharp and deep.

Between labored breaths, Venom tried again to reason with her. "Millia, I swear on Lord Zato's soul, I have no desire to fight you."

At such a solemn oath, a flicker of uncertainty passed across her face, but Millia only hesitated a moment before suspicion won out.

"You lie," she stated with a glare, but she lowered her arms a fraction. Her blonde hair continued to swirl around her, writhing through various weapon forms as if responding to her thoughts.

She continued with deliberation, "I killed Zato."

A tremor ran through his hand, but Venom steadied it, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Yes," he managed at last through clenched teeth. It took all his effort to suppress the snarl that curled his lips.

She tilted her head and regarded him with a curious look. "And you have forgiven me?"

He closed his eyes, willing the pain to disappear and his emotions to subside, but both remained as keen as ever. When he again regarded Millia, he found the woman still peering at him with those piercing eyes. Under such scrutiny, Venom had no choice but to tell the truth.

He hissed, "Never."

"Then die."

Millia dashed forward before she launched herself into a headfirst dive. Before she hit the ground, her hair shot out beneath her so she skidded toward him – riding on her hair. As she struck at his legs, Venom rolled out of the way, his shoulder brushing against sharp rocks, before he sprang up to his feet.

Venom had grown accustomed to Chipp's quickness and however fast Millia moved, she could not match the ninja for sheer speed. Yet as her hair withdrew, she leapt to her feet with a nimble handspring. Although the assassin had time to raise his weapon, he could not prepare himself for the pounding assault that Millia unleashed. Assuming the form of a spike, her hair struck at him in a series of furious jabs, striking across his body and arms.

Although he blocked the first round of stabs, he had no chance to counterattack and the blows continued. At last one pierced his defense and connected, slicing deep into his thigh so that his blocking faltered and others struck as well. As they hit him on the chest, stomach and arms, Venom skidded back – narrowly avoiding a final blow to the face – as he struggled to remain standing.

He kept his weapon raised but waited for her hair to lower before he charged with cue spinning before him. Millia raised an arm, hairs twined around it to cushion the blow, before the cue struck. As steel met flesh, Venom heard an unpleasant crack and the woman went rolling across the broken ground.

Instead of springing back to her feet, Millia struggled to rise, and Venom could see that her one arm hung battered and limp. Although the mass of hair shielded her face and torso from view, Venom glanced at the blood splatters on his pool cue and could imagine the pain coursing through her shoulder and arm.

When she made it to her knees, Millia looked up with defiance as a trickle of blood rolled down her chin. Her brow knit with the exertion, and Venom became conscious of his own injuries. The deep cuts across his body made it difficult to breathe as they throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

Venom met her cold gaze with his own hard expression then slowly held up the cue in front of him. Still meeting her eyes, he released the weapon in a deliberate motion and it tumbled to the ground, the steel clanging as it bounced across the rocks. He did not speak, knowing that actions meant more than anything he could say.

She did not speak either, but her eyes flickered to the cue lying on the ground before again regarding him. Millia sneered and dashed toward the man, but Venom did not flinch as a streak of gold rushed toward his face.

The hair stopped – inches from his throat – as she pulled up short. He kept his eyes locked on her face, deliberately not acknowledging the sharp blonde spike that threatened him. After a moment, the hair relaxed and fell around Millia's face as its strange energy drained away. It still twitched in the breezeless air, but the immediate threat had passed; Venom allowed himself to breathe again.

"Fool," Millia chastised, "You shouldn't be so reckless."

Venom, more out of relief than humor, gave her a tight smile as he reproached, "And you shouldn't be so soft-hearted."

Millia did not return the smile, but her expression softened. Regarding him with calm curiosity, she took a step back and rotated her injured arm to ease the soreness. Venom tested the wounds on his chest and stomach with tentative probing; although painful, they were not dangerous.

"What do you want, Venom?"

"Believe it or not," he began in a dry tone, "I've come to warn that you are in danger." When she raised a disbelieving eyebrow, he added with a shrug, "It is true."

The woman circled around him, but Venom remained still. This was her territory so he would allow her the upper hand. And if she truly had wanted to kill him, he would already be dead. As she moved back in front of him, Millia came to a halt so she could give the assassin a frank stare.

"I believe you, Venom, if only because you are a terrible liar." She paused, allowing the assassin a chance to respond, but Venom gritted his teeth and pretended not to hear. With a sigh of disappointment, Millia continued, "So I suppose I should ask what this danger is? I would like to know how you found me, but that would be naive to ask."

"Indeed," he nodded. "There is a new player around called the Postwar Administration Bureau. Have you heard of such an organization?"

Millia shook her head. "I've not spoken to my contacts since the Second Knight's Tournament. I have no desire to involve myself in conflict."

With a condescending snort, Venom crossed his arms and gave her a reproachful look. "You of all people should know that our kind can never avoid conflict."

Her eyes turned cold and she tossed her hair with pride. "Speak for yourself. You have never sought redemption. What can you possibly know about it?"

"I know enough to understand that running away is not the same as peace."

"And you certainly know about running away, don't you, Venom?"

Venom expected to feel rage at her impertinent remark, but instead he felt nothing beyond mild irritation. Once he would have killed for such an insult, but now he could only acknowledge the truth in her words. He wondered what had changed him so much in such a short time.

Yet he still hesitated before admitting in a soft whisper, "Perhaps I speak from experience."

Millia did not respond, but her eyes softened with what might have been respect. Venom had not seen that expression in a long time, and it made him strangely pleased; he felt himself warm to the woman.

Shaking aside such feelings, he continued with a curt toss of his head, "But that is not why I'm here. Just as I found you, so will these people. They target participants in the Knight's Tournament for their experiments, and kidnap them with robots known as Robo-Kys.

"Although relatively weak, the Robo-Kys are formidable _en masse_, and the Bureau has almost completed the second generation of these robots. My sources say that they hope these MK2 Robo-Kys will rival the power of the Gears, and for that they will need to harness magic. I suspect they'd be most interested in you and your Angra."

At its name, Millia's hair shifted and the woman looked uncomfortable. She unconsciously raised a hand to run fingers through the strands, but when she noticed Venom still watching her, Millia forced her arm to lower.

Collecting her voice, she asked, "And why would you tell me this?"

Although he had prepared for such a question, it still took him by surprise. Uncertain of how to explain, Venom began in a faltering voice, "If we ever had a friendship, it died when you betrayed Zato. But whatever I think of you and whatever you think of me, we are not so different."

Venom found himself meeting Millia's gaze through the veil of his hair. Her eyes burned into him – cold and blank and hard like facets of sapphire – but she remained quiet.

In an uncomfortable voice, he continued, "No matter how hard you try to escape, our memories of Zato bind us together, and for that reason I will not let them harm you. Do not think it love – it is quite the opposite. No one but me will take your life."

"How very thoughtful," she murmured in her cold voice. "But if you think yourself strong enough, why don't you try and kill me now?"

Venom's eyes flicked over to his cue, which lay on the ground and out of reach. Unarmed he would have a serious disadvantage in any conflict between them, but he knew that was not the reason why he did not attack. Nor could he claim that her death should wait until after he eliminated the other, more immediate, threats; Slayer's reappearance or no, Venom's duty was to destroy all the Guild's enemies.

"Because..."

Even as Venom's mind struggled for the answer, the truth came to him, simple and startling. "Because I don't want to," he decided.

As strange as the words felt in his mouth, once spoken he knew them to be true. He did not want her to die as Tsuyoshi had died, and he did not want to kill any more friends. His will still served the memory of Zato, but for the first time, he wanted to make his own decisions – his own choices. He no longer wanted to be a dead man's dog.

As if hearing his thoughts, Millia's look of skepticism softened and she nodded at his unspoken explanation. She moved toward him with lanky grace until they were mere inches away. He could hear the ragged edge to her breathing even as he became conscious of his own wheezing.

Millia tilted her head back to meet his eyes and remarked, "You have grown since the last time we met." She rested a gentle hand on his shoulder – light enough that it soothed the pain in his chest and arm.

"I do not ask for your friendship or forgiveness, but I am glad that you came. You must have gone through a great deal of trouble to learn about the Postwar Administration Bureau, and I am honored that you did it on my behalf."

Venom looked at the ground as he muttered, "The truth is that a friend asked for the information. I'm simply passing it on to you."

"A friend, huh?" Although her expression remained deadpan, he could hear the amusement in her voice as well as the insinuation.

Venom scowled and when his cheeks flushed against his will, the expression of annoyance deepened. He hoped his hair would hide the worst of his embarrassment.

"Yes, a friend. Nothing else," he snapped. "He's stupid and foul-mouthed with no redeeming qualities."

Millia crossed her arms, and a rare but genuine smile warmed her face. "That's good. I'm glad you've found someone different from Zato."

"Of course he's not like Zato! What does Lord Zato have to do with this? Are you implying something, woman?"

Her kind smile twisted into something more mischievous. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

She raised tentative fingers to his cheek and brushed aside the hair. Venom heard himself gasp, but he remained still – wary and tense but too uncertain to react. She stood on tiptoes to bring her face to his then pressed her lips softly on his cheek. They were as cool and rough as the tips of her fingers.

When she settled back on her heels, Venom took an involuntary step away as he regarded the woman with amazement. Even during their time together at the Guild, they had never been more intimate than a meeting of eyes or brushing shoulders as they passed in the hall. Although he looked for some clue of her intentions, her face returned to its normally blank expression as she turned away and moved toward some rubble.

As she peered around it, the black cat reappeared and bound over to her, twining itself around her legs with a loud purr. A pleased smile cracked her lips as she bent down and collected the animal in her arms. Although it struggled at first, the cat soon settled down – relaxed and amiable – as she rubbed its chin.

Holding the cat against her chest, Millia gave Venom one last look. "Take care of yourself, Venom. I am glad you came, but please do not try to find me again."

With quiet steps, she strode out of the plaza, unhurried and seemingly unafraid. Venom waited until she had disappeared from sight before he moved to pick up his cue and repack it in his carrying case. Only when he felt certain that she was long gone did he begin to retrace his steps. As he made his way out of the city, he could still feel the place on his cheek where her lips had touched.

* * *

Ky felt a tentative hand on his shoulder as a soft voice called through his sleepy haze, "Detective Kiske? Are you awake?" 

With effort he pulled his mind from the splotchy blacks and reds of unconsciousness and opened his eyes. Ky realized his head had come to rest on the desk before him and he blinked, hastily pushing himself upright in his chair.

With a file in hand, Cobb stood before the desk and looked at Ky with obvious concern. "Detective Kiske, please tell me you didn't pull another all-nighter."

It took Ky a moment to process the question and he rubbed at his eyes, giving his head a slight shake to clear the drowsiness. It helped a little, and he ran a hand through his now-tangled hair.

With a slight smile Ky quipped, "If you wish me to say that, I will. But I can't promise it's the truth." When Cobb opened his mouth to protest, the detective added, "I appreciate your concern, Officer Cobb, but I see no other choice in the matter. Although you have looked into companies involved in biological and genetic research for the past month, you and your assistants have found nothing but dead ends."

Cobb looked almost hurt, "But sir!"

"Do not think I am criticizing your work," Ky cut in but made a placating gesture with his hand. "I merely point out that another set of eyes may be helpful in the matter. That's why I've taken upon myself the task of crosschecking all of Johnny's leads."

Although somewhat mollified, Cobb still looked offended as he muttered, "And when you die from overwork, I'll be the one getting that promotion."

"As much as you deserve the honor, I wouldn't wish such burden upon you."

"I know," Cobb growled, "That's why I'm trying to keep you alive."

Ky smiled in response as he stood up. He gave a hopeful glance at his watch but sighed with disappointment; his favorite coffee shop would not open for another forty minutes. After brief consideration, Ky decided to make due with what he had and made his way to the corner of the office where he kept his mug and a tin of biscuits.

As he flipped on the water heater and began to sort through his collection of tea, Ky looked over his shoulder at Cobb. "Would you like something?"

The officer waved a dismissive hand that still clutched the folder. "No thanks, I had an espresso before I arrived."

Pulling the tea egg out of a drawer, the detective asked, "And why are you here so early, Officer Cobb? I wasn't expecting you in for another two hours."

Cobb's voice faltered and he sounded embarrassed as he admitted, "Well, you see, I kinda pulled an all-nighter myself."

Ky restrained from gloating but allowed himself a smile of triumph as he scooped the tealeaves into the egg. The other man could only glower at his superior and grumble, "Yeah, yeah. Pot – kettle, I know. But I only do it once in a while; you make a habit out of it."

Steam began to squeal through the water heater's spout and Ky flipped it off, letting the water cool a little before he poured it into his cup. Cobb continued as he pulled up a chair for himself, "The thing is, I went back and reexamined some of our older leads. I looked at some of the reports on research funding and allocation. One place in particular caught my eye."

He flipped open the file, revealing a detailed budget with several key figures highlighted for Ky's benefit. The detective looked at them with curiosity.

"The Neft Dashlari?" He skimmed over some of the figures. "Is this an oil company?"

"Close. It's actually an entire city built on an oil platform. Its whole purpose was to drill for oil, but the Azerbaijani government shut it down when it fell into disrepair shortly before the Crusades. This company, Caspian Energies, began to put money into restorations about ten years ago."

Ky shook his head. "I don't remember hearing this name."

Cobb took the folder back. "That's because you haven't. Caspian Energies is still relatively small, and the Neft Dashlari Revival Project has proven only marginally successful. The reason it caught my eye is because of several generous donations given from these companies."

He flipped through several pages and pulled out another sheet. "These are the grants Caspian Energies has received in the last three years. I became suspicious when I noticed this one coming from Genesis Biosciences and Pharmaceuticals, which is on our list. I played a hunch and found that these other two grants match the amount of unallocated spending from Genome Development Incorporated and Fountainhead Laboratories – both under investigation."

Ky had put the tea egg into his mug and now fixed his eyes on Cobb, the tea and his exhaustion forgotten. "You can prove the connection?"

The officer shook his head. "No way. They're way too good for that. The companies that gave the grants are squeaky clean, but that only makes me less trusting. I'd bet my career as an officer that Caspian Energies is only a front."

"I trust your judgment, Officer Cobb, and if there is a connection between those companies, it's just the lead we've been looking for. Do you believe the Robo-Ky factory is located on the Neft Dashlari?"

"I have no evidence from the satellite pictures we took, but the energy expenditures and supposed product don't match up with their reported profit. There's a possibility that Caspian Energies is just your run-of-the-mill corrupt company on the verge of bankruptcy, but my gut says there's something more. Either way, there's an awful lot of coincidence."

"And police don't believe in coincidence," Ky added with a grim frown. "Very well. We will investigate this lead further. As an International Police Force detective, I have the right to perform unannounced inspections of any corporate facility. I will go in and, if your theory proves correct, call you and a team in for backup."

"But Ky – I mean, Detective Kiske, the risk is too great. The Postwar Administration Bureau has already proven that they think they're beyond the law. If there is a connection, then it's too dangerous for one man to go, even on the pretext of a legal inspection. At least let me come with you."

Ky gave him a tight smile. "I appreciate your concern, but it is exactly for that reason that I cannot risk the lives of you or the other men. I have no intention of starting a fight, but should it come to that, I have more battle experience than anyone else on the Force. Besides, I know that you'll be ready if I give the signal."

Cobb did not look convinced, but at last admitted with a sigh, "You're probably right – no one else on the Force could handle this. But if you do need backup, I'm not sure how much help any of us can give."

"That's why I'll have my own personal backup," Ky replied with a nod.

"Oh?" Cobb looked gloomy and resigned as he asked, "What's that?"

"Let's just say I've developed a newfound respect for piracy these days."

* * *

Humming to herself, April scanned over the control panel of the May Ship. Takeoff had gone smoothly, and although the turbulence forecast suggested rough weather when they would make their approach, the controls handled well as the ship came to cruising altitude. 

"After takeoff check, please," she called out to June, who sat behind her at another terminal.

She did not have to supervise to know that the younger girl's eyes scanned over the dials and readouts with quick precision. After a moment, June called back, "After takeoff check complete. All systems normal."

With a cheerful grin, April nodded and craned her head to regard the copilot. Giving June a thumbs up, she announced, "Thanks, June! Let's engage autopilot and grab a bite to eat."

Although June maintained her solemn tone, she managed a tentative smile. "Autopilot engaged. What would you like from the kitchen, April?"

April shrugged. "Anything's fine. Leap never makes bad meals." She paused in thought then wrinkled her nose. "Well, everything except the meatloaf."

June stifled a giggle, but sympathetic mirth flashed in her eyes. "Anything but meatloaf it is, Pilot April."

Rising from her seat, June made her way to the cockpit door, which she pulled open with a grunt of effort. As she slipped from the control room, she gave April one last nod and pulled the door closed behind her. April heard the door handle click into place with a heavy clang and listened to the sound of retreating footsteps – almost drowned out by the engine noise.

Once alone, April turned on the autopilot and stood, stretching her shoulders and back. With a stifled yawn, she pulled out a thermos of coffee and poured herself a cup. The coffee was still too hot to drink, but she savored the smell and took a few tentative sips, enjoying the caffeine even as it scalded her tongue. As she withdrew the cup from her lips, April's mouth creased into a thoughtful frown and she cocked her head.

She thought she heard a faint knocking. Remaining as still as possible, the pilot listened harder and the noise sounded again after a few moments – this time a little louder. Her eyes scanned over the cockpit walls and back to the controls in front of her, but none of the equipment showed any sign of malfunction.

After she set down her coffee cup and thermos, she moved toward the source of the sound. With small steps to minimize her own noise, April crept toward the side of the cockpit. At last she reached the sound's origin, but by now the rattle had become a series of rhythmic taps that echoed through the cockpit. It came from a place between a porthole and the door to the ship's exterior. With a sense of foreboding, she stepped up on tiptoes to peer out the window.

And up popped the face of Chipp Zanuff, which promptly squashed itself against the window. Stifling a scream, April hopped back – her heart racing and the years slipping off her life. With a hand clutched to her chest, she tried to steady her heart rate as Chipp gave her an unconcerned wave. She merely stared at him – mouth open – and tried to rationalize his presence on the May Ship's exterior at this altitude.

For his part, Chipp ignored April's shock and instead gestured toward the door, mouthing something that she could not hear through the thick plastics of the porthole. In a daze she rushed forward and manually unlocked the metal hatch. They had not reached such a high altitude that the cabin had pressurized, so she heard only the sharp hiss of wind as she opened it just enough for the ninja to squeeze his way into the cockpit.

Once inside, Chipp stumbled out of the way and April leaned all her weight against the door to push it closed. Only after she put the locks back into place did April turn to the other with a look of confusion.

"Chipp! Why on earth are you here!"

The ninja wore a heavy cloak and thick pants but violent shivers racked his body. His teeth chattered when he tried to speak, and she hurriedly grabbed the emergency blanket and tossed it over to him. He accepted the blanket with a stiff but grateful nod and wrapped it around his lean frame.

Upon closer inspection, she could see the blue tint in his lips and the growing redness on his nose and cheeks – testament to the fierce winds that passed across the ship. April moved to pick up her coffee cup and handed it to Chipp. Their fingers brushed as he wrapped stiff digits around the mug, and she felt a deep chill through his skin.

After taking a quick gulp, Chipp managed in a hoarse voice, "Thanks, 'pril. It's been a while, yeah?"

She looked at him, thoughts torn between exasperation and amusement. "Chipp, if you wanted to visit, you should have talked to Johnny before takeoff. We'd love to see you, but right now we're on business."

"Naw, sister, I ain't here to visit. I got some information about where you're going, and I'm heading there myself. Figured I'd catch a ride."

April looked at him with surprise. As the pilot, she knew their destination, but Johnny had yet to tell her or any of the crew why they were going or what they expected to find. He only mentioned that someone needed the May Ship to provide support, and he did not expect the Jellyfish Pirates to become directly involved. She could not begin to imagine how Chipp managed to learn about their mission.

With hesitation, April point out, "Um, Chipp, I don't know if I can let you stay here. You really shouldn't come onboard without Captain Johnny's permission."

Chipp's lips parted into a wide grin even as his teeth continued to chatter. "I know that, April. Why don't yah give your capt' a call? Tell him I found a way to pay off my debt."


	15. Heaven or Hell

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari

**Notes:**  
Sorry for the long hiatus...by the time I get done working on my thesis, I don't really feel like writing o.o;;. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you will enjoy these last few chapters of my fic.

* * *

**Chapter 15: Heaven or Hell**

As the May Ship descended toward the island, the glow of predawn lit its metal hull so that it seemed to shine. Chipp stood on the main deck, the blues and dark grays of his ninja garb fading into the faint shadows that still remained from the night.

The sound of approaching footsteps disappeared in the constant blast of wind, but Chipp caught movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced over to see Johnny moving toward him with May and Dizzy trailing after. After the ninja looked across the faces of the pirates with a slight nod of acknowledgement, he returned to readjusting the straps on the backpack, and his expression became dubious.

"You're sure this is gonna work?"

Johnny smiled as the sunlight glinted across his shades, and he had to shout above the wind, "But of course! As long as you do as we discussed, the parachute will deploy and you'll land safely on the Neft Dashlari."

Chipp nodded but his face remained tight with concern. The sinking feeling only grew as he called back, "Yeah, I know. It's just I figured that, you know, we'd land or something."

May stepped forward and with her hands on her hips, she gave him a contemptuous grimace. "And how are we supposed to do that, when we need to remain undetected? We're already doing you a big favor by letting you come along, so stop being such a baby."

Unconsciously the ninja mimicked her stance as he retorted, "Who yah calling baby, short stuff?"

Her brown eyes narrowing, the girl stomped over to him and swiped at his arm. "Don't call me short!"

"I'll call you whatever I want to call you," Chipp declared as he batted her hand aside and flicked her on the forehead with his index finger. When she kicked him across the shin, he let out a hiss of pain and snarled, "Damn brat!"

But before the fight could escalate further, Johnny's voice cut through the chill air with stern exasperation. "Children!" Both Chipp and May looked over in mid-scuffle. The pirate captain pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose as he explained, "If you've already forgotten, we're on a covert mission at the moment." He paused to add weight to his words, "At least I thought we were."

Torn between arguing with Johnny and continuing his fight with May, Chipp at last turned from both of them with a one last glare for the girl. She stuck out her tongue at him as he moved toward the edge of the vessel. He placed a hand on the railing, which felt like ice even through his gloves; nevertheless his fingers instinctively curled around it and locked into a tight-knuckled grip.

Peering at the distant ground beneath the May Ship, Chipp called out in a resigned voice, "I hear you, Johnny, and I'm ready. Just to me when to jump."

From his chest pocket, Johnny produced a small communicator that he placed before his lips, and he raised his voice to speak above the wind. "April, have we reached the proper altitude?"

Although the communicator's speaker crackled with static, even Chipp could faintly hear her self-assured voice. "Yes, Captain Johnny. Chipp can deploy at any time."

When Johnny looked over at him with a grave nod, the ninja pressed his mouth into a thin line of determination and returned his own nod. Again talking into the communicator, Johnny said to April, "Roger that. Hold this altitude." After lowering his hand, Johnny called out to Chipp, "Ready when you are, Zanuff."

Against his well, Chipp glanced back over the side and began to move into position. The ship's edge provided little traction since the fiberglass and metal had become slippery with condensation, and Chipp made sure each of his steps had proper footing before taking another. As he edged over toward the end of the railing and into his jump position, Dizzy abruptly called out, "Chipp!"

With a confused look, Chipp twisted his head as the girl moved unsteadily toward him. Arms raised for balance, her face held determination as she came to stand in front of him. Even as Chipp opened his mouth to speak, Dizzy tilted her head up and planted a soft kiss on his jaw line. The ninja felt his mouth fall open, but the girl continued in a tentative voice barely audible above the wind, "That's for luck."

Chipp managed a nod and he felt his already wind-battered face became even pinker. "Yeah...luck..." He took a step back and bumped into the railing. "Thanks...I'm...I'm glad you, er, you know, are givin' me luck." Even as his hand locked around the frigid railing in a death grip, he managed a nonchalant shrug. "Yeah. Ahahaha. Guess I better be – oof!"

Johnny gave the ninja a firm shove that sent him tumbling over the edge. After a moment, the pirates heard a distant and ever-fading "Aaaaaaggghhh!!" as Chipp sped toward the ground.

Both May and Dizzy looked at their captain with shock, and Johnny managed a somewhat apologetic grin as he raised his hands in a placating gesture. "He took too long."

Dizzy looked horrified and she gasped with disbelief, "Captain Johnny!"

Johnny moved away from the ship's edge and placed a hand on her shoulder. With a gentle push he began to guide her toward the deck's door and back into the ship. May trailed behind, directing troubled looks between her captain and the place where Chipp had recently stood.

Placing her hands behind her head, the girl called out, "Um, Johnny, wasn't that a little harsh?"

The pirate turned to give May's hat an affectionate pat, and she blushed a little. Johnny all but crooned, "Don't worry, my dears, I know Chipp's type. It takes more than a few thousand-meters drop to stop his kind. As long as he lands on his head, everything will be fine."

* * *

As soon as he saw the Neft Dashlari, Ky knew something was wrong. He could feel a knot of tension form in his stomach – fighter's instinct, Kliff had called it – and years of experience told him to trust it. Before his helicopter pilot had touched down on a pad near the central facility, Ky asked him to do a sweep over the rest of the island. They had spotted only a handful of people, little more than bustling ants when seen from above, and the occasional vehicle, all heading for the shore. The reports said the city had a population of almost five thousand, but to Ky it appeared almost abandoned. 

Even upon landing, the detective did not see anyone beyond the skeleton crew of engineers needed for the most basic maintenance. A group of them waited patiently for his helicopter to land, then admitted him into the administrative building with almost no concern and even less surprise at his IPF papers. All his questions they shrugged off with vague gestures and snatches of broken Russian.

_Curious and curiouser_, Ky thought with wry unease as a secretary that spoke fluent French led him deeper into the facility. Although almost as reticent as the workers, she did at last answer his persistent questioning with mild irritation.

"Yes, Detective Kiske, most non-essential personnel have been evacuated. We discovered a gas leak and had to shut down several key generators. We hope for them to be working by the end of this week."

Giving the secretary a concerned glance, Ky asked, "But it is safe for us to remain here?"

Her eyes flickered across his face in a way that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and Ky had to stop himself from reaching for Thunderseal.

"There are always...certain risks when it comes to oil platforms, Detective Kiske, but I assure you that we are quite safe at present," she assured in a neutral voice. They came to a small lounge area – unobtrusive and tidy – and the woman gestured toward the well-padded seats. "Please make yourself at home, Detective Kiske. The foreman will be with you momentarily."

Ky gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement but did not sit down even after she left the room. Thunderseal remained a comforting weight against his side, and he absently smoothed his cloak to feel the heavy steel beneath the fabric.

As he scanned his eyes across the room, he assessed it as both a detective and a fighter. Nothing about the lounge appeared suspicious – a small television mounted on the wall, two vending machines in the corner and a handful of round tables and low-seated chairs. Except for the pile of magazines scattered across the tables, it was almost too tidy but nothing out of the ordinary. But the more cynical part of Ky did note that area was too small for a proper fight, and Thunderseal's length would put him at a disadvantage in such close quarters.

Suddenly restless, he moved toward the pile of magazines and scanned their covers. Although they were all in either Azerbaijani or Russian, he flipped through the least obscene-looking one, which appeared to be some sort of technical journal. He did not actually look at the pages' content as he flipped through, but above their rustling, the sound of grinding metal reached his ears. At once alert, he spun on his heel to face the door.

The sound stopped, but silence hung in the air with foreboding. Even as his eyes darted across the room, Ky raised a hand to open his jacket, and once he had pulled Thunderseal from its sheath, he quickly snapped the jacket's buttons back into place. When he moved toward the door on the balls of his feet, the fabric of his cloak whispered against his legs.

Muscles tense, he again froze and the sound came again – this time unmistakable. Metal gears and the hum of electronics hissed on the other side of the door, and all doubt faded from his mind as a grim smile curled his lips.

_Guess you were right about this one, Cobb._ He gave the door only the briefest assessment before shifting his grip on Thunderseal._ And if we're both wrong, there's going to be hell to pay back at headquarters_.

With a small prayer half-formed on his lips, Ky unleashed the power of Thunderseal and lightning arched from its tip in a flash of white light. As it struck the door, a deafening crack echoed through the small room and hallway, and the door burst off its hinges, crashing into the other side of the corridor with a hail of splinters and smoke.

Although he could not see through the doorway, Ky heard the heavy frame connect with something solid and the painful shriek of metal skidding across tile. He had only an instant to reorient himself before something fast streaked toward him. The chairs and tables made dodging impossible, so he stood his ground as a sword crackling with electricity clanged against his own.

A burst of static shot up through the sword and into his arms, and he felt his hands go numb as the blade pressed down on Thunderseal. The feel of electricity was familiar to the detective, and he ignored the pain, delivering a well-timed shove that knocked the attacker off him and into a clump of chairs.

With his newfound mobility, Ky stepped back to position a chair between him and the attacker, but he did not relax his fighting stance as he studied his opponent. Although he expected the feeling, Ky still experienced a moment of unease at the imitation of his own features and clothes. Despite its mechanical appearance and crudely sculpted features, Ky could not deny a general likeness. "Robo-Ky" was truly the only name that captured such a creation.

The robot's companions flooded into the room, filling it as they cut off any chance of his escape. Ky shifted the weight of Thunderseal in his hand as his blood began to pound with the anticipation of battle – real battle – and a feeling of almost giddiness passed through his body. He had made the right decision when he ordered Cobb and the others to remain behind; now he could fight without the risk of hurting others.

The Robo-Ky in front of him raised its blade and darted around the chair. Without hesitation, Ky swept Thunderseal in a wide arch that cut through both robot and furniture. Sparks flew as the blade tore through the robot's insides, the torso and head tumbling to the ground, but the other Robo-Kys were already moving. Ky knew from the reports that the robots moved faster than their clunky appearance suggested, but he still felt surprise when they convened on him as one.

Yet the close quarters limited them as much as it did him, and Ky turned aside most of the blades – stepping only when absolutely necessary – as he assessed the situation with professional calm. Their manufactured Thunderseals did not appear to have his weapon's sheer power, but they had its deadly reach and edges sharp enough to kill. If not for years of battlefield experience, the former Knight would have been at a distinct disadvantage.

As a blade managed to knick his outer coat, Ky twisted his body with a belated parry before slicing upward. A severed mechanical hand still clinging to its sword clattered to the floor, but Ky did not spare it more than a glance as he took advantage of the opening and decapitated the injured Robo-Ky. Its head bounced along the tile floor, but the mechanical body remained standing, jerking with belated electric signals.

The remaining attackers did not have time to react when Ky shoved the headless robot body into one of them and then pivoted on his heel – lightning building up around his hands. With a hiss of effort Ky released the electric energy and a bolt shot out with a flash of white light. It sizzled through the air before striking the raised blade of a Robo-Ky. Although it managed to block, the force of Thunderseal's lightning doubled it over and it reeled back a few steps.

Rather than give it time to recover, Ky threw himself forward and slide tackled its legs. In the tight quarters of the room, the detective sandwiched it between his attack and a table, which the Robo-Ky struck with a heavy thwack; its mechanical body struck with enough force that the table warped under the pressure and the wood groaned.

Although the Robo-Ky tried to recover, Ky continued his assault with a slash to its knees. And while the blade did not cleanly sever the metal casing, he cut enough of the wiring that the legs buckled under the robot's weight and it tumbled toward him. The detective finished it with another slash across the Robo-Ky's chest that left a gaping hole of blackened metal and melted wires.

A blade streaked toward Ky's face, but he rolled out of the way and around the table. Another came at him from the side and he parried, back stepping on the balls of his feet as it pressed him toward the corner. He only needed a quick look of assessment to realize their strategy. They thought that the size of the room and their numbers would prevent him from fighting back; the thought made him smile.

Ky brought up his blade and opened his mind to the wild currents of electricity that surged within his weapon. As he let down the careful barriers that regulated the power of Thunderseal, the sword began to glow – its power hungrily spreading to fill the room.

White arcs of lightning leapt from Ky's skin as the energy coursed through and around him, searing his blood and making his flesh tingle with its unbearable current. For a moment his mind teetered on the brink of insanity – the unstoppable chaos of electricity tearing at his existence and consuming his mind. For a moment his name and his purpose were lost in the electric sea that surrounded him, and for a moment a Robo-Ky's blade looked like it would connect with his throat.

But then Ky reasserted his will over Thunderseal's power, and he was moving – blade slashing forward. Vision engulfed in hissing whiteness and ears deafened by the roar of energy, Ky moved by instinct. His whole body had become a weapon and he not so much ran, as flew, across the room. Tongues of lighting leapt out of him and struck the Robo-Kys, the furniture and the walls.

When at last Ky came to a halt, he let out a raspy breath as he suppressed Thunderseal's power. The lightning dissipated with disorienting speed that left Ky numb and breathless. His muscles, drained and tired from the surge of electricity, nevertheless tightened in anticipation of battle as he turned on his heels to regard the room.

The lightning had left great gashes of scorch marks across the walls, and most of the furniture had exploded into fragments of charred wood and burning fabric. The Robo-Kys had fared little better, and the only one of the group that had not fallen into a pile of broken pieces now twitched erratically as smoke poured from its eyes and mouth.

Ky gave it a disdainful look before releasing a blast of electricity that struck the robot across the chest, and it crumpled to the ground with a loud hiss. The detective mentally apologized for the destruction of the room as he made his way back into the hall, but once in the corridor, his entire attention focused returned to the situation at hand. He looked up and down the hallway with a wary glance, but the sterile white tunnel appeared abandoned except for him.

With Thunderseal in one hand, Ky placed the other into his pocket and grasped his communicator. As an IPF detective, he needed to call Cobb and bring in a troop of men. The Robo-Kys' attack was enough to confirm this place's involvement with the kidnappings, and the International Police Force had the right to raid facilities without a warrant. But although his duty was clear, his hand still hesitated.

The Robo-Kys were not weak by normal standards, and a frontal assault would result in a great number of casualties. He had no way of knowing how many Robo-Kys were patrolling this island, and he could not ignore the possibility of human soldiers.

Thinking of his current troops, he recalled the long list of the soldiers killed during the Crusades. They had been fellow warriors and his comrades, but in the end he had deemed their deaths a necessary sacrifice. And although Ky could rationalize that utilitarian attitude during the long and bloody years of the war, he balked against the notion in this supposed peacetime.

Even as he wavered, finger hovering above the button, a pleasant voice on an intercom interrupted his thoughts. After a moment, he recognized the speaker as that woman who had led him here. "Welcome, Detective Kiske. We congratulate you on your excellent detective work in finding us."

Ky scanned the corridor, and his eyes came to rest on a small security camera near the ceiling. With a slight grimace he inclined his head in acknowledgement and declared, "Your company has come to the attention of the International Police Force. Caspian Energies is under investigation for kidnapping, murder, acquisition of technology banned by the Olten Conventions, and conspiracy. I must ask that you halt all operations on this facility immediately."

For an instant there was complete silence, and then the woman burst into laughter that made her slight accent more discernable. "You say the funniest things, Detective Kiske. We did not invite you here so that you could threaten us; you are here as part of an experiment. Although you have proven that the original Robo-Kys are no match for the real thing, we have a newer model that is in need of testing."

"The MK2s?"

Even through the intercom, he could hear her acid smile. "But of course."

Ky shook his head in disbelief. "You actually think you'll get away with this? Troops of the IPF have already surrounded this island. Whether or not I live, it is too late for you to escape."

In a voice somewhere between exasperation and amusement, the woman explained, "Detective Kiske, we appreciate your concern, but the Neft Dashlari has already fulfilled its function. At the end of this field exercise, both it and you will be terminated and we will begin the next phase of our administration."

In a more cheerful tone, she added, "But you needn't worry about that. You will not be around to witness it anyway, and I suspect you will have more pressing concerns momentarily. Now if you'll proceed to the manufacturing floor on level B14, you'll find some things that may be of interest to you."

"And if I refuse to cooperate?" Ky asked in a cold voice.

Her tone also became cold. "We'll do our best to entertain you with the materials on hand."

On cue the sound of static came from behind him. A group of Robo-Kys moved down the corridor and filled the hallway leading toward the facility's exit. They stood with their heads hanging as if relaxed, but when Ky took a step toward the group, the robots raised their eyes with flashes of yellow light. Ky counted a total of ten – not an easy fight but the detective had handled worse.

As if the speaker had read his thoughts, the woman mentioned, "You are more than welcome to play as long as you like, but do keep up your strength. We don't want you dying on us." A pause and then she added, "At least not yet."

He could fight these ten, but so far the supply of these machines had proved almost limitless. On his own and against such great odds he would not last long, and the Bureau knew it. Ky at last flipped on his communicator and spoke into the microphone.

"Kiske to Cobb."

After a brief pause, Ky heard a burst of static and Cobb's somber voice. "Cobb here."

"Cobb, notify headquarters that we have a Minaret Situation. I want every available officer at this location as soon as possible. In the meantime, I want you and your men to maintain positions around the Neft Dashlari. I don't want anyone getting off this island until reinforcements arrive. How long will that take?"

The pause was longer this time, before Cobb acknowledged, "Roger that, Detective Kiske. Officer Edwards says it's going to be another eight hours before reinforcements arrive, accounting for weather. Should we extract you now?"

"Negative, Cobb." Ky eyed the robots with resignation. "I'm afraid the trap's already been sprung, and it's too late to retreat. I'm going to continue the investigation as best I can."

"Sir – !"

"That is all, Cobb. I will keep you notified about my status."

A hiss of static and an unhappy voice. "Yes, sir."

"Very good. I'll contact you in an hour." Ky hesitated before adding, "And Cobb?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Don't worry too much."

There was another pause, and Ky could imagine the other man's humorless smile. "Roger that. Cobb out."

The line went dead, but Ky did not lower it from his lips. With his eyes never leaving the Robo-Kys, the detective switched frequencies and asked in a soft voice, "Johnny, can you hear me?"

A girl's voice answered, crisp and professional, "Loud and clear, Ky, but this is April. What can the May Ship do for you?"

"Things are...not going well down here. I may need those reinforcements you promised." Ky shifted his weight, but the Robo-Kys remained still. It seemed the Bureau felt magnanimous at least for the moment, but the detective had no desire to push his luck.

At last a voice – now male – responded, "Johnny here. We've already dispatched...erm...assistance."

He had enough dealings with the pirate to know when Johnny was not saying something. Ky arched an eyebrow and queried in a skeptical tone, "Johnny?"

The pirate hastily tried to reassure him, "Don't worry. He's not the brightest, but he'll keep the Robo-Kys busy. Think of him as a diversion."

Ky felt a flicker of concern, but accepted Johnny's decision. However Ky felt about the pirate's sense of humor, he knew that the American would treat this mission with absolute seriousness.

With a nod, Ky pointed out, "I have no choice but to trust you. Please continue to monitor this island from the air. Kiske out."

Pocketing his communicator, Ky hoped for a very good diversion as he made his way down the corridor and deeper into the trap.

* * *

Chipp did not worry about the facility's layout as he sped down the hallways. Despite a rough landing, he had managed to go undetected through the outer parts of the facility and into the central building. Johnny's information suggested that the actual experimentation occurred underneath the island – well underwater and perhaps even drilled into the seabed – so as long as he headed down, Chipp would find what he wanted. 

He needed to capture some sort of personnel to interrogate, but the building had proved empty thus far. Cameras still monitored the hallways, but Chipp had yet to see a living person, guard or otherwise. Everything about this place smelled of a trap, but if Venom was right, it was not for him. Although he felt a flicker of concern for Kiske's safety, Chipp dismissed the thoughts. Despite the other's pretty-boy delicacy, he knew that the cop could take care of himself, and Chipp had to get to whoever was in charge of this place before he did.

Chipp teleported across the hallway to avoid the video cameras and rounded the corner at full speed. He only had the time to throw himself against the wall as a blast of electric energy surged toward his chest and head.

As the ninja pushed off and assumed a fighting stance, the Robo-Ky pulled back its sword and announced in a grinding voice, "INTRUDERSPOTTED. REQUESTINGASSISTANCE."

"Oh no you don't," Chipp growled as he clenched his hand into a fist. Ki surged into his arm and he cocked it back. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice –"

The ninja leapt at the robot, and although it raised the sword in defense, Chipp moved too fast for it to block effectively. Ramming both fist and arm blade past the sword and through the Robo-Ky's head, bits of wire tangled in his fingers and the metal frame crunched against his knuckles. With their combined weight, Chipp slammed the Robo-Ky to the hallway floor, which cracked from the force.

The Robo-Ky's body twitched as Chipp rose to his feet and glared down at it. With a merciless expression on his face, he finished, " – and I'll fuck you up."

He brought a foot down through its chest and the robot went still. A snarl still twisted his lips as Chipp looked up at the video camera now pointed at him. Flicking his wrist, he sent a shuriken flying into the lens then turned away from both camera and robot. He glanced down the hallway with a considering look.

No question that they had detected him – now it was only a matter of time before reinforcements would arrive. Although he felt confident fighting against the Robo-Kys, they would slow his progress toward the actual target. Every second counted so without hesitation, Chipp began to speed down the hallway.

He glanced at the doors he passed but saw nothing unusual – unoccupied labs and computer facilities – as he let instinct guide him through the branching corridors. Although Chipp did not know quite what he was looking for, he knew it was something bigger and more important. Preferably it would have someone inside that he could beat up.

When he reached another flight of stairs going down two levels, he leapt down in one bound. Years of training helped his legs absorb the impact, and the ninja used this momentum to launch himself out of the stairwell.

This time he sensed the Robo-Kys before they could strike, but he did not have enough room to avoid crashing into one near the doorway. Rather than try to stop, Chipp twisted his torso and brought both feet up to ram into the robot's chest. As his heels dented the metallic chest, the ninja sprang off with a somersault and rolled back to his feet.

His raised arm blade caught the weapon aimed at his head, but Chipp could not stop the sword's electric energy from numbing his hand and forearm. He had expected this, and with a fist glowing with ki, Chipp punched through the Robo-Ky's elbow, which let out a loud crack as it bent into an unnatural angle. As he sidestepped behind it, Chipp slashed forward and severed its fiberglass spinal cord.

Although the robot continued to function, the ninja grabbed it by the outer cloak and spun it into another approaching Robo-Ky. The two machines tangled together, giving Chipp only an instant to prepare himself, before the others closed in around him with blades extended.

Chipp excelled in close-quarters fights, but the number of enemies made it difficult for him to channel his ki. Although he evaded the blades and kicks with relative ease, his counterattacks proved all but useless, and he did little more than knick his enemies across the chest and arms.

"Shit," Chipp spat as he spun around, at last managing to clip a metallic face with his boot. "You're fucking pissing me off!"

As an icy hand seized the wrist of his blade arm, he brought up his elbow and smashed it into the robot's throat. The hit bounced off and pain flooded his arm, but it succeeded in knocking the Robo-Ky off balance. Although his arm was temporarily useless, Chipp used the moment to pivot on his heel and deliver a ki-enforced kick across its side. This time the metal crumpled. As the robot fell backward, the ninja seized it by the collar and cocked his arm.

Even as his fist connected, all but breaking through its head, Chipp heard a cheerful voice call out over the sound of tearing metal, "There you are!"

Chipp kicked the Robo-Ky remains aside as he looked up in disbelief. Two unmistakable figures were running down the hall. Baiken looked grim but pleased and Anji waved amiably with one of his fans.

"Fancy meeting you here, Chipp!"

Chipp sidestepped the sweep of a sword and brought his arm blade down, cutting the appendage off at its forearm. The Robo-Kys hesitated as they looked between Chipp and the Japanese, and the ninja took the opportunity to deliver a low sweep kick on a nearby robot. Springing forward, he called out, "Why the hell are you here?"

The Robo-Ky closest to Baiken looked startled when her grappling hook shot out and ripped off its head. As its body crashed to the floor, the other robots at last began to break off and turn to face her and Anji. She flicked her blade out of its sheath with a satisfied twirl.

"We heard the sound of you failing and figured you could use the help," Baiken said with a grim smile as the Robo-Kys moved to surround her.

Chipp rolled his eyes as he teleported, and he landed by her side. "Guess since you lost an eye, your hearing got pretty good, huh?" Chipp murmured as he brought up his fists.

The woman spared him a venomous glance with her one remaining eye. "Keep flapping your jaw, Zanuff, and I'll show you exactly what it's like to lose one." A Robo-Ky unfortunate enough to move into her striking range got summarily sliced and fell to the floor in a shower of sparks.

As another flipped into the air and brought is blade down upon the Japanese woman, Anji dashed forward with a spin of his zessen that cut into the Robo-Ky's attack. The electric sword fell from its hands as the stopping fans bit into its frame with their razor edges. It fell back into another attacker, and Anji gave his companions a smug grin.

"Now, now, Baiken," he chastised. "We're here to help out our incompetent white friend, not blind him."

For once Chipp chose to ignore the comment about his heritage, and he turned back to the woman. "How did you guys get here, anyway?"

The woman shook pink hair out of her face and growled, "You ain't the only one not happy with these Robo-Kys. We only stuck around in that safe house long enough to figure out where Kiske was going, then we ditched the place and followed him here. He's surrounded the island with cops, but ain't nobody leaving anyway."

A Robo-Ky moved too close and both Baiken and Chipp stuck it at the same time, katana and arm blade piercing its chest. With a nod of approval, she continued, "Seems all non-essential personnel were evacuated a few days ago, but we convinced a ferryman to take us across."

"And by 'convince' Baiken means that she held him up at sword point and threatened his life," Anji chimed in with an unhappy expression. He parried an electric blade before flipping the Robo-Ky on its back with an expert swing of his fans. Without a word, Baiken's blade rammed into its chest, and the woman gave it a fluid twist before removing her weapon.

"I got that much, Anji," Chipp answered as his eyes flickered between Anji and the Robo-Kys. "I ain't stupid, you know."

"Maybe not," Anji agreed, "but the man said some interesting things that you might not know." At last the Robo-Kys backed down, carefully staying out of the range of Baiken's sword and Anji's fans. Even so, the Japanese man did not lower his guard as he explained in a low tone, "He said that none of the scientists have left yet, so they're still lurking around somewhere. Although he didn't know too much about what they do, the ferryman said they work in the lower levels of the facility, and unlike the engineers, they almost never leave."

"How far down?" Chipp asked in a sharp voice.

"Shit if we know," Baiken remarked with a shrug. "What do you plan on doing anyway if you find them?"

Chipp took only a moment to consider his plan, before he said with satisfaction, "Hold 'em up at blade point and threaten their lives until they tell me who's in charge of this place."

Anji's head sagged a little. "Mah...not you too."

Baiken gave the ninja a proud grin. "You're a quick learner, kid." She shifted her feet into a more secure stance before adding, "We'll hold these fuckers off; you take out the asshole who made 'em."

Chipp nodded, and let Anji edge over into his place. The fan user had a grim expression on his face as he adjusted his grip on the zessen. Chipp gave his shoulder a soft punch of acknowledgement before moving down the hallway.

Before he could pick up too much speed, a voice called out to him, "And Zanuff!"

Chipp turned around as Baiken glanced over her shoulder with an expression somewhere between a smile and a snarl. "Let that fucker have it for me too."

Returning her grin with an even broader one, the ninja clenched his fist in anticipation. "You got it!"

Chipp began to sprint down the hall and a few of the Robo-Kys made as if to follow him, but Baiken positioned herself between the ninja and the robots and Anji moved to follow. She murmured in a low and dangerous voice, "I don't think so, assholes. You gotta get through us first."

The Robo-Kys froze and their eyes flashed yellow as they silently communicated with each other. Anji took the opportunity to move closer to Baiken and exclaim in a cheerful voice, "Look at us, Baiken. Fighting back to back as a team! Kinda romantic, don't you think?"

"Get in my way and I'll cut through you as well."

Taking the hint, he backed away. "Well, at least you warned me," he mused with a defeated sigh. "That's gotta count for something, right?"

Baiken rolled her eye and muttered, "Just watch my back, Mito."

"But of course!" He gave the Robo-Kys a long-suffering glance as they fixed their eyes on the Japanese fighters and raised their weapons. "Back to work I suppose."

The Robo-Kys attacked, and Baiken did not bother to answer.


	16. Slash

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari**  
**

**Notes:  
**Sorry this took so long...I'm actually not very fond of writing fight scenes, and I had some major writing block when it came to the Ky v Robo-Kys fight. I hope you like how I portrayed the MK2s; I think they're cute XD. Only one more chapter to go...it's all talk, so maybe it'll go faster o.O;;.

* * *

**Chapter 16: Slash**

"Kiske to Cobb, do you read me?"

Ky waited a moment for the reply but only static answered him. With a frustrated sigh, he flipped the communicator off and thrust it back into his pocket. It did not surprise him that he had lost contact at this depth, but a voice on the outside would have been comforting.

Before he joined the Order, Ky fought alone. He had eaten scraps left for dogs and slept in the ruins of fallen cities, but the days of fending off bandits and fighting only for himself ended long ago. Ky had come to rely on others and now took unconscious comfort in such camaraderie.

Here on level B14, at the base of the staircase, he was truly alone.

_Better than endangering other lives_, Ky reminded himself as he palmed the electronic latch to open the door. It obeyed without requiring any password or code, but Ky expected as much. His presence was not only anticipated, it was wanted.

But while the Bureau had directed him to this level, they had not stopped the Robo-Kys from nipping at his heels. The detective had dispatched them with relative ease, but he could feel his body growing weaker as the hours passed and the battles became more and more frequent. Now would come the true challenge, and he could afford no distractions.

Thunderseal in hand, Ky stepped through the door.

The door led directly onto the assembly line floor, and although production had ceased, the detective could imagine the long lines of robots as they moved from station to station on industrial-sized conveyor belts. He could also imagine the number of Mk2s produced, and the thought did not comfort him.

Eyes scanning the room, Ky moved to a computer panel near the doorway and found one of the monitors still online – undoubtedly for his convenience. Despite a lack of familiarity with the interface, a few hesitant taps pulled up what appeared to be the technical specs of the MK2s. While most of the information meant nothing to him and would require a technical analyst, Ky knew enough to realize the implications of the MK2 design.

If the first version of Robo-Kys mimicked Ky Kiske's fighting style, the MK2s had far greater versatility. Their programming let them acquire any number of fighting styles and abilities – hence the need for kidnappings. As programmable super soldiers, they would remain completely controllable yet could perform the most powerful fighting techniques outside of the Gears' own.

Or so the Bureau must think.

The Crusades had proven that something about the human spirit could not be recreated or overcome by mere machines, and yet the Postwar Administration must think that these MK2s would succeed where the Gears had failed.

_And that's why they invited me here_, Ky mused as he turned away from the panel. _Can these machines really best the original? _

As Ky moved further down the assembly line, he adjusted his grip on Thunderseal. The thought of the Robo-Kys built in his image set his teeth on edge. _I will not be replaced._

He did not quite reach the center of the factory floor when a metallic voice spoke with eerie familiarity and a kind of electronic warmth.

"HELLO KY."

Pulling Thunderseal up into a defensive stance, Ky repositioned his feet as several other voices chimed in, echoing the first.

"HELLO KY."

"HELLO KY."

"HELLO KY."

They appeared one at a time – dropping from the high ceiling's rafters in pieces and reassembling their parts as they hit the ground. Feet rooted in place, Ky watched the process with sickened fascination. Legs, torso, head – each falling one on top of the other and clicking into place with audible snaps.

The precision and complexity of such technology was superior to the original Robo-Kys in every respect, and the detective felt amazement even as a deeper sense of disgust ran through him. He wondered how anyone had ever mistaken these monsters for a human being.

A MK2 began to speak in a more animated voice than Ky would have thought possible, yet its grating quality underscored the cheerful words. "WE ARE GLAD THAT YOU CAME, KY."

"WE WANTED TO MEET YOU," a second robot admitted.

Another stepped forward and pointed an accusatory metal finger at Ky. "YOU ARE LIKE US BUT SOFTER."

The first shoved this one aside and asked in an almost polite voice, "WE HOPED YOU COULD TELL US ABOUT WHO WE ARE."

"WHERE DO YOU LIVE?" The fourth asked as it shoved back, and the other two bounced forward to join in the questioning.

"WHAT FOOD DO YOU LIKE?"

"DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES?"

"YOU LIKE ROBOTS, DON'T YOU?"

Ky blinked. "Um..."

The Robo-Kys ignored his confusion as they edged closer with childlike eagerness. They seemed so innocent that detective almost forgot their programming until one decided at last, "OH WELL."

"WE GUESS IT'S TIME TO KILL YOU," another finished.

Unlike the original Robo-Kys, the MK2s did not move as separate parts of the same entity. Each took a different stance as the first moved in to attack him, its blade swinging. As Ky fell into the deadly dance of attack and defense, he realized two things. If the MK2s mimicked Ky's fighting style, it was only in the loosest sense. Rather than imitate his technique as the original Robo-Kys had, the MK2s adapted their moves to take advantage of their inherent strength and speed.

Ky also realized that they were completely insane.

Even as the attacking one lunged at him with its sword, another pulled out a rocket launcher hidden within its cloak and fired upon both man and machine. Although Ky leapt out of the way, his instincts responding faster than thought, the unfortunate robot could only stare at the approaching missile with some confusion before it exploded in the MK2's face. The decapitated Robo-Ky flew across the factory and crashed into a wall even as its killer stepped before Ky.

It chuckled to itself, an unpleasant mechanical hiccup, as it unleashed another round of missiles from beneath its cloak. Ky countered with a blast of electricity, but the bombs exploded above his lightning blast and shrapnel rained down upon him. Even as the detective protected his face with raised arms, the Robo-Ky, more dexterous and quick than its predecessors, slid under the stun edge.

Ky braced himself for the sword strike, but the Robo-Ky instead began to glow. The detective's eyes widened as he recognized its stance, and an electric projection of the MK2 shot out and engulfed Ky. The move, stolen from Chipp Zanuff, did not hurt as much as a true ki blast, but the electricity served its purpose.

Experiencing a wave of numbness, Ky could do nothing as the Robo-Ky ran at him. Its hand turned into a heavy mace and struck across his left arm. While Ky did not hear an audible crunch, the pain that burned through his arm and up his shoulder like a physical force suggested a broken bone.

A wave of disorientation clouded his thoughts, and it took Ky a moment to realize he was skidding across the floor, teeth clenched hard enough that he could taste copper on his tongue but Thunderseal miraculously in hand. With a grunt of effort, he rolled to his feet but staggered unsteadily as the change in momentum made him dizzy.

The robot moved in, close enough to fight sword to sword, and though the machine had the advantage of strength and speed, Ky had the finesse and experience. Even with his non-sword arm hanging useless at his side, the former Knight easily avoided his opponent's clumsy attacks. When an opening presented itself, Ky did not hesitate to pierce the Robo-Ky's defenses with a well-timed thrust.

While Thunderseal did not cut through the MK2 as readily as it had the original Robo-Kys, the counterattack served its purpose when Ky let a blast of electricity hiss through his weapon and into the robot. As a spasm ran through his attacker, Ky flipped back so that his blade turned into an arch of electricity that sliced through the front of the MK2's torso and face.

As Ky landed on the balls of his feet, the pain running through his left side became great enough that he stumbled. It took him a moment to master it, and he regarded the robot only long enough to confirm that it had collapsed into a broken heap. With this one destroyed and another incapacitated by friendly fire, the detective had only two opponents remaining.

The pain in his left arm had subsided into a constant dull ache, and with great effort he experimentally curled the tips of his fingers. All but useless, but now that Ky had seen the MK2 fighting style, he would only need one arm to win.

Pivoting on his heel, Ky turned to face his remaining foes. Rather than attack, the two robots regarded him with their metallic heads tilted. If Ky thought such a thing possible, he might have imagined that they appeared curious. After a moment, one clasped its hands together in excitement.

"YOU'RE PRETTY GOOD, BIG BROTHER KY."

The other nodded with enthusiasm so that its eyes flickered, "BIG BROTHER KY IS SO COOL!"

Although the detective expected any number of things from his artificial opponents, compliments were not among them, and Ky felt sweat trickle from his forehead down his temple.

He could not help a slight bow as he requested in a soft voice, "Um, please don't call me that."

"BUT BIG BROTHER KY IS OUR BROTHER!" One of them exclaimed.

"EVERYONE LOVES HIM!" The other added with equal excitement.

In a suddenly flat voice, the first decided, "EXCEPT US."

"EXCEPT US," its partner mimicked.

"WE JUST WANT TO KILL HIM."

"JUST A LITTLE."

Because Ky was not the sort of person who talked to his household appliances, much less electronic equipment that threatened to kill him, he felt a little awkward as he responded in a cool voice, "Very well. Then come."

"YES. WE'LL COME."

"ALL OF US."

"ALL OF US."

"ALL OF US."

"TOGETHER."

Ky felt a sinking feeling as mechanical voices echoed across the factory hall and filled the rafters. It took little effort to see that more were appearing, their bodies arriving piece by piece as they began to surround him. As they assembled, the MK2s shifted to form a wide circle around the detective. This time there were more than he could count.

Battle scenarios rushed through Ky's mind and it took him only a moment to assess the situation and react. Ky began to run in an all-out sprint that sacrificed defense for speed. Against so many, he could not afford to remain surrounded; breaking the circle was his only hope.

When he reached the ring of robots, he tucked into a slide so that his foot smashed into the kneecap of a half-assembled MK2. As it crashed into its neighbor, Ky used his momentum to launch himself to his feet and again began to run.

He swung Thunderseal one-handed to repel rather than strike, but his desperate swings did connect with several opponents as he ran past them. Instead of taking the time to assess the precision or damage of his strikes, Ky kept moving – stepping around the heavy swings of the MK2s' blades and working his way through the crowd.

Ahead he could see the empty space that marked the edge of the Robo-Kys' circle, but when Ky made the final leap to freedom, the heavy crack of an explosion filled his ears and pain exploded across his back. The blast pushed him forward and sent him tumbling to the concrete floor.

Smell was the first sense to return to Ky, and he realized that something was burning. Something metal and plastic but something organic as well. Hair and cloth and maybe flesh.

Ky ignored the ringing in his skull as he tried to see through the red and black splotches that engulfed his vision. Everything appeared blurry, but he could tell that the robots in his immediate vicinity were smoldering. Scorch marks blackened their scattered pieces and the acrid scent of gunpowder almost overwhelmed him.

Even though Ky could not feel his left shoulder or side, his bloodied fingers twitched in response as he pushed himself to his feet. His right hand itched for the weight of a weapon, but Thunderseal lay hidden somewhere amid the wreckage and Ky had no hope of finding it in time.

He began to move as quickly as the pain through his shoulder allowed. Not fast enough but Ky had run out of options.

Something – instinct or perhaps some subconscious sense heightened by the pain and adrenaline – made Ky twist around, and it gave him just enough time to see a Robo-Ky land before him with sword drawn back.

Although he did not feel the sword run through his already ruined side, Ky noted with clinical detachment that someone was screaming. It was a feral sound of rage and pain – so much pain – that cut through the metallic sounds of the clanking MK2s and the din of battle.

It took him a moment to realize that the sound was his own voice. Ky marveled that such a noise could come from him, tearing his throat as an angry rush of air.

His working hand clutched at the robot's blade and the sharp steel cut so cleanly through the flesh that only the feel of cold air on the wound caused it to sting. Although insignificant compared to his other injuries, the new sense of pain helped reconnect him to reality, and Ky clenched his teeth to fight a wave of dizziness.

Like all gut wounds, once the shock wore off, the pain would become incapacitating even if the injury would not prove immediately fatal. Ky knew that he had little time to act.

The warmth of blood began to fill his mouth as he lunged forward, pressing himself further onto the sword. The weapon prevented most of Ky's movements, but the trap worked both ways and the robot became equally contained. With his right hand, Ky rammed his fist into its face.

The tactic worked about as well as he expected, and flesh tore with a loud, wet sound as his knuckles smashed into the metal. Pain exploded through his hand and arm despite a fog of numbness, and he began to cough up blood. Ky could not stop afford to stop, and he pulled his broken fist back and rammed it forward again and again, the pain intensifying with each strike.

A prayer ran through his head to prevent the pain from becoming unbearable. _Forgive me, Lord, for not being strong enough. _His knuckle cracked an eye plate. _I have failed so many that I swore to protect, and in doing so, I have failed You. _Wires jutted from the MK2's ruined cheek and it emitted a shrieking hiss. _But still lend me Your strength. Help me to protect everyone, to protect this world's chance at peace, even if it means my death. That much I will do. For everyone. For You._

A scream of determination rather than pain escaped Ky's lips, and with his last remaining strength, he wrenched at the robot's faceplate. The delicate metal pieces sliced through his skin and wires caught in his nails, but he continued to pull, ripping and tearing as the MK2's shrieks reverberated with his own cries.

Its hand slipped off the sword's grip and the robot stumbled back. As if in a dream, Ky began to fall as well. He could feel death tugging at the edges of his awareness even as the remaining MK2s moved in for the kill.

And then he saw a demon. Not a man-made one like the Gears, but one resembling those that a priest had described to him in his orphanage days. Demons were older than man and Gears – things that had gone against God in the beginning of time and lost the right to stand in His light. They were beasts that lived only in the darkness, and now one was standing before him.

But this one was not a creature of darkness but of fire, and pure burning beams filled the room with an inferno. Arcane symbols gleamed on its forehead with unholy light and flames consumed its eyes. It let out a roar, a challenge from one monster to another, and launched itself forward like a cat on the hunt. Leathery wings, black against the reds and yellows of the fire, fanned the blaze as it attacked with all-consuming fury.

Ky regarded the creature with awe but no fear. He wondered for an instant whether it had come to save or to destroy him, but then none of that mattered. The world had become fire and could contain nothing else. Not even him.

* * *

Francesco leapt from his seat with a yelp. "What the hell just happened?!" 

He gestured to the viewing monitor, which now fizzled with white noise, as if the other scientists could not see for themselves. The head assistant was some youngish man with deep bags under his eyes and a perpetually worried expression, but Francesco did not have the time to recall his name.

Baggy eyes stuttered, "I...I don't know, sir! Something's interfering with the reception!"

Francesco had to restrain himself, as he hissed under his breath, "Yes, I gathered that from the sudden explosion that seems to have destroyed the entire manufacturing level. I want to know what the hell just happened!"

One of the guards, some brutish security thug with the look of a Neanderthal, glanced up from his terminal. "Sir, we've got an image of another intruder."

The pounding in Francesco's head crescendoed into a migraine, and he patted his pocket for a bottle of painkillers. He listened for the comforting clink of pills, but had no such luck. Empty already.

"Another intruder?" Francesco turned to the guard, preferring this more comprehensible problem than that of the factory level explosion. "That makes, how many? Five? What does this one look like?"

The guard dutifully pointed to the grainy figure on one of his screens.

"He's making his way toward this level. We don't have enough reserve Robo-Kys to stop him."

Assessing the intruder's strange hairstyle and unorthodox weapon, Francesco hissed, "Freaks! They're all a bunch of freaks! First the Japanese rejects, that failed Gear and now this one. What happened to that really fast one? Where is he?"

"Right here, you asshole."

Francesco jumped at the sound of a nasal growl, and the guards rose to their feet with hands already on their guns. The grate of a ventilation shaft fell with a heavy thud, and although Francesco knew he heard a softer thump of something lighter hitting the ground only a moment after, he could see no intruder.

The guards also seemed confused, and though their weapons pointed at the empty space, they hesitated to fire. But then they began to fall. Invisible blows seemed to strike them from all sides with such speed and power that it was surely not just one man, but an army.

With a yelp, Francesco collapsed to his knees and placed his hands over his head. He scooted as best he could underneath the nearest desk, and a hasty glance revealed the other scientists doing the same. For the first time since he left Zepp, Francesco felt fear.

Panicking, the guards began to fire at random and hit each other and thousands of dollars worth of sensitive equipment without so much as fazing the unseen attacker. The head scientist cringed in desperation as he realized that he was going to die. They all would unless these guards could hold out until Robo-Ky reinforcements arrived. Surely the Robo-Kys would come any second now.

_Just a little bit longer_. He urged, fingers twisting in his hair and trembling against his scalp. _Just a little bit longer and I'll be okay._ For the first time in his life, Francesco considered praying.

And then the last standing guard uncooperatively fell to his knees before planting his face into the ground a moment later. Francesco could only stare at the body with surprise and not a little disappointment until the voice again spoke. This time it was connected to a body, which seemed to fade into existence near the center of the room.

"Which of y'all is runnin' this place?"

Francesco kept his mouth shut, but the other scientists did not hesitate to point traitorous fingers in his direction. Francesco did a double take, and a dark scowl spread across his features. Scanning their faces, he realized the reason for such treachery. Their expressions were scared but also hard and merciless. Jealous. They were always jealous of him.

"Bastards!" Francesco hissed through clenched teeth as his trembling fists almost ripped out chucks of hair from his head.

The intruder looked from him to the others. After a moment of consideration, he ordered, "Everyone out. Now."

The scientists did not have to hear the command twice, shoving at each other as they pressed for the doorway. When Francesco also rose, the intruder pointed a finger at him that blocked him as effectively as a physical barrier. Francesco cringed as if it were some secret weapon.

"You. Stay."

Neither man spoke as the others skittered out of the room and down the hallway, but Francesco unbent his knees and stood as straight as possible, using the moment to regain his courage and hoping to maintain some dignity.

If the other man was impressed by the scientist's bravery, it did not show. He continued to hold Francesco in place with a piercing glare just short of hatred. Unconsciously swallowing, Francesco examined the intruder searching for some clue about his identity.

Although wrapped in layers of grays and blacks like some old fashioned ninja, tufts of white hair poked out of his cowl and his exposed skin was so pale as to be almost translucent. Sharp red eyes confirmed Francesco's assessment that the other man was an albino, yet the scientist knew that this was the first albino he had ever encountered.

A heavily muscled, angry albino would could turn invisible and somehow seemed familiar, though Francesco knew he had never seen the other man before...

_Freaks. They're all a bunch of circus freaks._

As if he could read Francesco's thoughts, the albino's eyes narrowed and he at last asked, "You the one who built the Robo-Kys?"

Francesco considered his options, but decided it was long past the time to dissemble. He nodded, "Yes, I designed them. Just as I designed the MK2 versions."

"Hn. So maybe you recognize me?" With a well-practiced twist of his wrist, the attacker pulled down the wrappings around his face to reveal a pointed, youthful face. He was young. Frighteningly young – probably in his early twenties at best. Francesco looked from the kid to the unconscious guards scattered across the room.

He felt too shocked to answer, but the attacker took this for assent and continued, "So you do?"

"I...I've never seen you before in my life."

This was the wrong answer, because that pale face seemed to become even whiter as his lips pulled back into a snarl. One moment he was standing in the middle of the room and the next he was hauling Francesco up by the collar so that the scientist's feet dangled several inches above the ground.

"Never seen me before? Never seen me?" The attacker's fingers twisted in the fabric of the scientist's shirt making it harder for Francesco to breathe. Yet even when the scientist began to cough in desperation, the albino continued in a harsh whisper, "You took me, you fucker. You took me for your goddamn experiments."

When the man at last released him, Francesco tumbled to the floor and scrambled away with a whimper, all attempts at maintaining dignity forgotten. The intruder clenched his hand into a fist, but unmoving, the fist began to glow with white light – pure energy crackling around his knuckles.

Francesco's eyes widened in surprise and recognition. This was a ki-user.

"You recognize this, right? The name's Zanuff. Chipp Zanuff. Ring a bell now?"

The name did not – just one of hundreds on a list that one of his assistants had handled – but Francesco understood the power that the youth possessed and his reason for attacking.

"You're one of them," Francesco stated with only a note of surprise. _One of the elite freaks._

The scientist began to laugh, an unhealthy guttural sound, but he could not stop even when the ninja approached him with a fist raised in silent threat.

"What's so funny, old man?"

"You're one of them," Francesco repeated; now wheezing between his choking giggles. Only when Zanuff again wrenched him up by his collar and slammed him against the control panel of a computer did the scientist jolt out of his hysteria.

Looking up at the albino with a fresh wave of fear, Francesco stammered, "Please, you don't understand. You...all of you have been given a great honor. You are special – deemed worthy to help create a line of super soldiers."

"You fuckin' trying to flatter me?!" Chipp shifted his grip so his hand closed around Francesco's throat, and another wave of panic spiked through the scientist.

"N-no! Please! It was for the sake of science that I did it," Francesco croaked against the pressure on his windpipe. "It was necessary, and you are unharmed. There is no need for –"

Something fast and heavy swung toward Francesco's face but by the time he managed to yelp, the scientist had already heard the loud crunch of metal bending and an electric fizzle. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Zanuff's fist smashed through the panel next to his head. White sparks danced across that pale hand and Francesco could smell burning.

Whimpering, he tried to break free, but Zanuff's other hand held like iron even when Francesco clawed at it in desperation. His nails made lines of blood but the other did not seem to notice.

"Please!" Francesco tried again. "I have a daughter! I'm all she has. No one else even knows she exists."

He thought of his half-finished creation – bloodied and broken – and felt a pang of conscience. He had not intended to leave her as he had. Even as a failed experiment, she had a certain charm, a certain innocence, which he had always loved. But the Bureau had come and given him an offer he could not refuse. He could not refuse, even if it meant abandoning his most valued creation.

Too late for that. Too late for anything now. As he closed his eyes, Francesco realized that he would never know if the MK2s functioned properly, and he regretted this most of all.

Yet the finishing blow did not come. Instead his attacker abruptly loosened his grip and shoved the scientist aside. Francesco fell over and pain shot up his tailbone as he landed on the ground with a loud crack. Too shocked to move, he winced in pain as the ninja glared down at him.

"So fucking pathetic. How am I supposed to kill someone so fucking pathetic?"

Zanuff's fist began to glow, brighter than before, so that Francesco could feel the air tingling with ozone even from this distance. With a decisive blow the ninja rammed his hand into the control panel, but deeper than the first time. Rather than just bend the metal, he now tore through it. A surge of power arched from machine to machine and acrid black smoke poured from the fried circuitry. If the bullets of the careless guards had destroyed the equipment, this man now made the data they held irretrievable.

Francesco moved before he realized he had the strength to do so, flinging himself at the other's legs in a futile effort to pull him away from the delicate machinery.

"What are you doing?!" This time his voice came as a shriek, but Francesco no longer tried to hide his alarm. "The latest data is on those machines! We need that for the next phase!"

The scientist met the other's eyes for only a fraction of a second before a booted foot connected with his jaw. He tumbled across the floor, skidding into the collapsed body of one of his guards as pain exploded through the side of his face. Even as he cradled the jaw wound, Francesco scooted away from the prone figure; he was unsure if it was dead or merely unconscious but the thought of touching it made him sick.

Zanuff moved to the next set of panels, and Francesco scrambled toward him on his knees.

"Schtop id!" Each word sent a fresh burst of agony through half his face, but Francesco did his best to enunciate around the broken jawbone. "Preez! Kiwl me, jusct schtop id!"

The other gave Francesco a contemptuous glare as he moved to the last set of panels. With a deliberate look at the scientist, he slammed his hand into the circuitry with enough ki that the lights of the room flickered.

"I ain't gonna kill you, so fuck off." He turned and walked toward the door. "Might wanna leave though, 'cuz once I get through with this facility, there ain't gonna be much left."

Francesco did not have time to retort before the figure vanished, leaving only a lingering afterimage. With hand pressed against jaw, he stared vacantly at the empty space before him. That freak – all those freaks – had systematically destroyed his work. He would not make his deadline, the Bureau would revoke his grant, and he would again have nothing. Nothing except a sub par lab and his precious A.B.A.

As he recalled his daughter, the despair and pain somewhat subsided, and the decision to return became obvious. He would return to Frasco Labs and fix her. She would become his greatest creation, and he would prove his genius to the world. This business with the Bureau and Robo-Kys was only a temporary setback that he could overcome with hard work and persistence.

With exhausted and jerky movements, Francesco rose to his feet. If Steve was still alive, Francesco would convince the younger scientist and perhaps some of the lab technicians to join him. Despite this project's many problems, they had made an excellent team.

Yet when he turned to limp toward the door, Francesco felt his heart leapt in surprise. A shadowed figure stood in the threshold, and Francesco took an involuntary step away as his fingers tightened across his jaw. The man glided with slow but deliberate steps into the room, and Francesco assessed his appearance with uncertainty.

Not a guard and not a scientist, the man was well-dressed with strange blue markings forming a pattern on his bleach white hair. His eyes were hidden behind that curtain of hair, and he held something like a pool cue. It did not take much of a logical leap to realize this man was one of the intruders, and Francesco at last placed him as the latest one.

Despite his strange hairstyle and garb, he spoke in a cultured voice with only the faintest English accent.

"So he could not go through with it, could he?" The words seemed a casual statement rather than question for Francesco, and he continued before the scientist could respond, "Not that I am surprised, of course. For all his tough talk and bluster, Zanuff is no killer."

A cold blue eye peered through the white strands of hair and that smooth voice held a hint of a growl, "Even with trash like you, it seems."

Francesco had never brawled or fought as most of the Zepp kids did, preferring the solitude of his room and computers, but even he could feel the deadly aura surrounding this strange man. Zanuff might have been a wolf, but he was only a pup compared to this man. This person before him was a predator – all teeth and no pity.

"M...merschi..." Francesco stuttered.

"Mercy?" The stranger arched a delicate white eyebrow as he brought the pole forward. "No, I do not think so. Zanuff may not be a killer, but I am. And while I consider it unprofessional to kill without making a profit, I'll make an exception for you."

As the other launched himself into the air, Francesco cried out in alarm, but his broken jaw made it sound more like a moan. Pool balls manifested themselves around the attacker and filled the air.

As one, they struck.

By the time Venom landed, the scientist had also hit the ground – broken like the doll of a sadistic child. Blood-stained cue balls lay scattered across the floor, but Venom did not bother to recover them. Let everyone know that he did it as a personal killing rather than as a job for his Guild.

After breaking down his pool cue and replacing it in its case, Venom turned to leave. Not merciful, but certainly quick. Perhaps that counted for something.

* * *

Chipp knew something had gone wrong even before he reached the factory floor. He had fried as much fancy-looking equipment as possible and now had only to destroy the means of production. Yet even from down the hall he could smell the sharp scent of burning and destruction coming from the factory floor. 

When he at last reached a platform that looked down on the main production area, the view confirmed his suspicions. The room, large enough to accommodate the heavy machines for the assembly line, held the scattered remains of Robo-Kys – dismembered and scorched almost beyond recognition. The air stank of electricity and burning plastics, causing Chipp to gag before he could readjust the cowl around his nose.

Without hesitation, the ninja flipped over the railing and landed almost three stories below. Chipp's feet scuffed against the concrete as he gingerly stepped around the robotic bodies. His first encounter with one remained clear in his mind, and he had no desire to repeat the experience.

As Chipp moved across the factory floor he realized that whoever had wreaked havoc upon the Robo-Kys had done an equally effective job on the computers and machines. Almost impressed, Chipp noted that not a single piece of equipment seemed intact.

When he rounded the corner past a large conveyor platform – the rubber torn and half-melted and the fixed machinery smashed beyond recognition – Chipp almost jumped in surprise. Amid the twisted robotic bodies knelt a man, whom the ninja immediately remembered.

"Badguy!" Chipp hissed between clenched teeth as he brought his hands up into a fighting position. Even if he had no chance of winning, the ninja had every intention of making the bounty hunter work for his victory.

Sol's head turned, and Chipp felt cold yellow eyes burn into him. The strange golden symbols that marked all Gears glittered on Sol's forehead as the bounty hunter rose to his feet and moved toward Chipp.

If the ninja felt surprise at the Gear's presence in the facilities, the figured cradled in Sol's arms only compounded it. Ky Kiske – unconscious, pale and smeared with soot and blood.

Chipp gaped as he took an unconscious step forward. He had seen enough injuries to know that the detective needed immediate medical attention.

"What're you staring at, punk?" Sol challenged, and his mouth opened to reveal sharp canines closer to fangs than human teeth.

Although he had seen the Gear's true form only once before, Chipp mastered his fear and refused to back down. Rather than answer the challenge, Chipp snarled his own question, "The hell you doing with him, Badguy?"

"What's it to you?" Sol retorted in a clipped voice.

Chipp knew when he was out of his league, and Sol's power, like that of Justice, was terrifying. Sol had never fought him, probably considering Chipp beneath his notice, but the ninja had no desire to push him to the point of conflict. Yet even more than self-preservation, Chipp did not want the other to think him a coward.

A sudden announcement on the overhead intercom saved him the trouble of losing face, when it declared in a neutral voice, "Self-destruction sequence activated. Please evacuate immediately. Destruction in twenty minutes and counting."

Both Sol and Chipp hissed simultaneous curses before turning to glare at each other.

At last the bounty hunter ordered, "Take him. The cops should be swarming all over this place by now. Hand the kid over to them; I got some more business here."

Chipp had no desire to fight Badguy, but he hated taking orders. "Why should I?"

Although Sol did not answer in words, his look made Chipp's life flash before his eyes, and the ninja found himself moving forward to collect the injured man before he could stop himself.

As a flush of embarrassment stained his cheeks, Chipp settled for muttering, "It's not like I'm gonna let a injured man die anyway."

As Chipp hauled the detective up and across his shoulders, shifting Kiske to distribute the other's weight, the scent of blood and burning almost overwhelmed him as hot stickiness soaked through the detective's clothes and onto his own shoulders and back. Chipp looked up with alarm at Sol, whose face had at last softened into something almost human – strange on his demonic features. He brushed a hand across Ky's cheek and temple before cat-slit eyes flicked across Chipp's face.

Badguy replied to the ninja's silent question, "I did what I could to stop the blood flow. He'll make it; he's tougher than he looks. Just get 'im out of here before the place blows. Got it?"

"Don't tell me how ta do my job, yah freak."

"Don't try my patience, boy."

"Fuck you! Next time we meet, I'm gonna kick your ass."

The intercom announced, "Seventeen minutes till self-destruction."

Both men looked at the intercom with annoyance before exchanging another round of glares.

At last Sol gave the ninja a slow nod. "Get the kid out alive and we'll see."

The bounty hunter began to walk away, not toward the exit but deeper into the facility, yet Chipp did not question him or his ability to escape. Some things were just too nasty to die.

Making sure that Ky was secure, Chipp remarked to the unconscious man, "And people say I hang out with the wrong crowd."

He began to run as fast as Ky's bulk permitted, and when he reached the stairs, taking them in half-flight bounds, Chipp hoped that Baiken and Anji had cleared a path for him. For one of the first times in his life, he was not in the mood for fighting.


	17. Epilogue

**A Highway that Never Ends**

Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari

**Notes:**

Well, I'm afraid the conclusion isn't terribly exciting or even conclusive, but it's supposed to lead into _GGX: Isuka_, so I couldn't wrap up too much. To all of you who stuck through it and put up with my incredibly sporadic updates, I thank you! I really don't have the attention span for writing these long fics o.o;;.

* * *

**Chapter 17: Epilogue**

The bright sterility of the hospital ceiling greeted Ky when he at last opened his eyes. For a moment he lay still and listened to the steady beep of the heart monitor next to his bed as the world came into focus.

"Oh good! The conquering hero returns to us!" Cobb spoke in his usual pleasantly sardonic tone. He slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. "You gave us quite a scare, sir."

"How long?" Ky did not so much speak as groan, the words grating against his throat and tongue.

"You've been out for almost a week."

In alarm, Ky tried to sit up but the pain that throbbed through his gut made him wince and fall back to the bed. He squeezed his eyes shut to help numb the pain as Cobb slipped into the seat by side of the bed.

"If you're worried about the Robo-Kys, there's no need. Someone triggered the facility's self-destruct sequence so both the laboratory and factory were destroyed." Cobb rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. "Frustrating as hell, but I suppose it's not a real mad-scientist laboratory without a self-destruct button."

Ky ignored his assistant's quip to focus on more pressing concerns. "How did you find me?"

The officer frowned and gave Ky a curious look. "You mean you don't remember? After we lost communication with you, I dispatched reinforcements. We had just made it into the facility when the fugitive, Chipp Zanuff, came to the surface. He was carrying you and handed you over to a medic.

"He said something about a self-destruct sequence, then disappeared before we could detain him for questioning. Not much else we could do but evacuate the premises and rush you to a hospital."

Ky closed his eyes to encourage memories to return to him, but the final hours in the Neft Dashlari facility remained fuzzy and surreal.

"I remember the robots; they were everywhere. And then there were flames. Flames consuming the whole factory floor." He hesitated. "You say it was Zanuff who rescued me?"

Cobb shrugged. "It seems that the two Japanese had also infiltrated the factory, but he was the one who carried you out. What is it? Do you remember something?"

The image of glowing yellows eyes floated through Ky's mind, but he did not answer. He had seen eyes like that during the Crusades – the bright, feral eyes of the Gears. And yet the ones from his memory did not contain the unchecked rage that characterized Gears. Instead they had a familiar quality; they made him think of Sol.

_Impossible. Sol is human. He fought against the Gears along with the rest of us._ And yet...and yet Ky imagined that same light gleaming from Sol's narrow eyes. There was something untamable in Badguy that shone through his eyes even when he served as a Holy Knight.

Those brown eyes – and yes, the light of Fireseal turned them almost golden – held something cold and terrifying that had simultaneously drawn and repelled Kiske. Human and inhuman at the same time. Ky could imagine that if circumstances had changed, if Kliff had not been head of the Order, Sol would have –

" – but it is no matter," Cobb was saying in an even voice, "We'll find Zanuff and the others. We did it once, we can do it again, right?"

Ky nodded, his thoughts returning to the present. "Yes, and then we will continue our investigation into the Bureau. If we backtrack from Caspian Energies, we can..." the look on Cobb's face made him trail off. "What is it, Cobb?"

"I just came from a meeting with the chief. He's very impressed with your work, and you should expect a promotion in the near future."

Ky knew what Cobb was not saying, but he asked anyway, "And?"

"When you're fit for duty, he wants you back in the office. You're being assigned to a new case."

Letting his head slump against the pillow, Ky drew a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice came from between clenched teeth. "The MK2 threat may have been neutralized, but the Postwar Administration Bureau is still at large. My report will state as much."

"I know, sir, but the chief seems pretty adamant. Satellites have picked up some activity in Antarctica and he wants you to head that investigation."

After a moment of hesitation, the detective again looked at Cobb. He peered into those light brown eyes as if searching for something and at last murmured in a low voice, "Cobb, they knew I was coming. They had prepared everything for my arrival, going so far as to evacuate the island itself. They must have gotten the information on our investigation weeks in advance."

Cobb's nod was thoughtful as he replied, "It's amazing how well-organized the Bureau must be. I've never seen anything like it – not during the Crusades and not even in Zepp."

"Yes. They seem to have influence in all the major organizations, and they are incredibly thorough. Surely they have agents even in..." Ky trailed off. The words, _even in the IPF itself_, stuck to his tongue. It was not that he didn't trust Cobb, but instinct told him that now was not the time.

Ky smiled and shook his head. "It's not important. Wherever they are, in time we will bring them to justice." If a mole had infiltrated the International Police Force, Ky would find that person himself. No reason to enlist Cobb's aid. "And somehow I suspect most of the investigations we'll do in the future will come back to the Bureau anyway."

A crooked smile crossed Cobb's face. "Don't know how happy I am about it, but I have to agree with you, sir."

Ky's eyelids were becoming heavy, and he frowned in frustration as they drooped halfway closed. He forced them open as he looked up at Cobb. "One more thing, officer. Do you know how much longer they plan on keeping me here?"

"Your not leaving any time soon, sir, so get some sleep."

Ky tried to protest. He wanted to tell Cobb that they had work to do that could not wait, and he was perfectly fine. He wanted to have the nurse discharge him immediately and told Cobb as much, but by that point his eyes had already closed and the words came out as a faint murmur.

A few breaths later and Ky was again asleep.

* * *

Venom ran his fingers gently up the flower's stalk. After a moment of deliberation, he clipped several of the smaller buds before moving onto the next plant. Zato had taught him that the smaller must die so that the chosen blossoms become truly beautiful. Venom had always felt a sort of vague sympathy for the necessary sacrifices, but pity did not stop him from doing as Zato instructed. 

He did not hear any tell-tale sounds of breathing or careful movements, so when Chipp's voice came from somewhere behind him, Venom jerked up in surprise.

"Assassin by day and florist by night? That's a new one."

A flicker of a smile crossed Venom's lips as he scanned the surrounding area for signs of the ninja. He saw nothing out of the ordinary and at last turned back to his work with something close to disappointment.

"It is dawn, not night, but your point is taken. It is a guilty pleasure, if you will. Don't tell my companions; they might kick me out of the club if they find out."

Chipp let out a soft snort and for a moment it seemed that he was right behind Venom. Yet when he responded, his voice was distant. "'Cuz they'd never guess you had that kind of hobby with you being a funky-dressed homo."

Venom had no one to glare at, so he settled for giving the plant in front of him a scathing look. In a deceptively cool voice, he retorted, "Just as I'd never guess a drug-addict white boy of being a ninja."

The assassin could almost feel Chipp's indignation on his back, but the younger man showed remarkable restraint and remained hidden.

He did not speak for so long that Venom began to wonder if he had left in a fit of rage, but then a tight voice at last admitted, "I owe you one, Ven, but still. Fuck you."

Venom let his hand with the clippers fall to his side as he straightened his back. "You are satisfied with how this has ended?" He knew Chipp would understand his question.

"Yes. I mean, no." Chipp paused as if collecting his thoughts before he explained, "When I infiltrated the facility, I was so fucking pissed, all I wanted was revenge. But then I got to the guy behind it all and he was just a nobody – some wimp of a scientist. Sure, he was a real asshole, but in the end he was just another schmuck screwed over by the Bureau, yanno?"

"Not really." Venom had little sympathy for that sort of person. He briefly considered telling Chipp about his part in Francesco's death, but decided it would only upset the younger man.

"Well, I guess what I'm trying to say is that it ain't him or even his Robo-Kys that I really hate. It's the Bureau. Can't fucking stand it."

"So what will you do?"

There was a pause, but Venom knew Chipp had decided long before he came here. The ninja was frighteningly decisive in all aspects of his life.

"I can't let it go. I gotta figure 'em out. Find a way to stop them."

"And what about becoming president? Surely that will help you stop them?" Venom asked in a soft voice. He did not add, _Will you still come to the library?_ because that would be pathetic beyond words, and whatever Eddie might say, Venom had not reached the level of a lovesick puppy.

Chipp laughed, low and without humor. "C'mon, Venom, I ain't stupid. It'd take years to become president, and besides, I think I'm better at this."

"So you're going to focus on your training." Venom did not bother to make it a question; he already knew the answer.

"I have to if I wanna take on something like the Bureau. Reading books is nice and all, but it ain't gonna keep you alive."

"Ah." Venom could not quite keep the disappointment out of his voice and he wanted to kick himself. Maybe Eddie wasn't as off as he'd thought.

The silence dragged out past awkward into something oppressive. Venom kept his eyes fixed on the patch of leaves by his feet, and he imagined Chipp invisible but shifting with discomfort. He cleared his throat and the ninja did the same.

At last Chipp muttered, "Well, see you around."

Venom nodded ever so slightly. "Yeah. See you."

The assassin did not realize he was waiting for Chipp's response until he noticed that he was holding his breath. Softly exhaling, Venom shook his head and readjusted his grip on the clippers. Whether or not Chipp was still lurking around the Guild did not matter to Venom beyond professional responsibility as its leader and caretaker.

He returned to his gardening without caring whether Chipp would stay or go. He did not admit even to himself, that he was still listening, still waiting, in case Chipp decided to return.

* * *

"Agent Ty reporting. The first stage of testing has reached a successful conclusion. 

"Yes, I retrieved the plans before the facilities were destroyed. Several unexpected factors made detonation of the laboratories and factory necessary, but we had prepared for such a contingency.

"I regret that Francesco's dead was also necessary. He was becoming too erratic and unpredictable. The deaths of the other scientists is regrettable, but ultimately necessary as well.

"No, one body has not been accounted for.

"It is Dr. Raymond – part of the genetics research team. We are still looking, but the International Police Force's recent activities are making it difficult.

"No, Kiske has responded as expected.

"Yes, we will continue to monitor him, although I speak with quite a bit of confidence when I say he will be exactly where we want him when phase two begins.

"Thank you, sir. Yes, I understand. I'll look into it. Good bye."

Ky absently glanced over at Cobb as he walked into the office room. He had a pile of reports in hand, and looked almost dejected by the sheer quantity of paper.

"Who is that?"

Cobb rolled his eyes as he flipped his phone shut. "Father-in-law. He thinks just because I'm a cop, I've got connections. But I'd rather not annoy the wife by blowing him off, you know?"

Ky smiled before handing him the top folder from the stack – their next assignment.

"Understandable." Ky began to make his way to his own office and absently added, "Keep up the good work."

"Of course!"

Cobb couldn't help a small smile of satisfaction. He made a point always to do good work.

--End--


End file.
